


Muddled Lakes

by planningconquest



Series: Acid Rain [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Adoption, Darth Father, Death, Family, Gen, Ghosts abound, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Slavery, Misleading, Murder, Other, Politics, Prison, Riots, Smuggling, Thievery, criminals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:48:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9906602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planningconquest/pseuds/planningconquest
Summary: Darth Vader's plot against the Emperor moves into action, dragging the galaxy along with him.





	1. Chapter 1

Luke had never been in Jabba’s palace before. He had certainly seen it from the outside, glaring at the hideous construction that marred the otherwise decent looking landscape. Always hating it for what it symbolized to Tatooine and the people that lived here. He despised the Hutt for his crimes and was more than ready to exact the revenge for the hundreds of gallons of blood that had been spilled in the lonely deserts. To reap what the Hutt has sown in fields soaked with stolen water and the from the misery of millions he controlled. 

Vengeance had come to the Hutt. Luke closed his eyes and carefully connected the last piece of explosive before pulled away and leveraging the rope just enough to allow him slack to slide down the wall. 

:Leia: He asked, pulling on their connection. :I’ve got the last one in place. Have you gotten the others out.:

Leia’s presence was shaking with a cold rage that reminded him of his father. :I’ve got them ready for transport. The kitchens and the ones in the lower levels. We just don’t have the ones in his throne room.: 

:I have the master chip.: Luke told her as he rappelled the last of the way down the wall and landed on the dusty ground with a thump. Just across the hallway was Bib Fortuna, stuffed into a closet with a nasty lump on his head lekku. Luke could have knocked him out with the Force but thought hitting him to be far more just to everyone he’d ever antagonized. :Did you find Han?” 

:They told me he’s hanging up in the throne room.: Luke winced as the Princesses voice cooled a few million kelvin. :How long until we meet?:

:Ten minutes. I need to get changed.: Luke began to slip the harness from around his waist and pulled the rope back into the enormous bag he’d carried with him into the Hutts palace. From that he pulled his dark outfit and newly crafted lightsaber. :Where is Chewie?:

:Already loading up the last of them. Poor dears, the Alliance ship is waiting for them.: Luke ducked into a spare bedroom and began to change. At a startled gasp he swung around, halfway through pulling his shirt on to see a green skin twi’lek in a highly revealing outfit standing beside the bed. 

“Uh.” She seemed frozen with surprise and stared at him. Her gaze flicked up and down his half-exposed chest and he self-consciously pulled the shirt closer to him without pulling it all the way on. “Hello.” 

“You are supposed to be here?” She asked, moving a bit and then subsiding. 

:Luke? What’s going on?: 

“That depends,” Luke wondered and flushed as she surveyed his body again. 

“Are you new to his collection? Lord Jabba does enjoy humanoid flesh even male humans.” 

“Really?” His flushed red with rage which the woman seemed to take as shame. 

“I am waiting for one of Lord Jabba’s favored hunters. Are you waiting as well?” 

“I…which hunter?”

“I do not know.” The woman’s dark eyes flicked down and then toward the bed. Bile rose and Luke considered the likely fate of the twi’lek. “I could be the hunter for all you know.”

“You are too beautiful,” her mouth twitched in a faint, dead smile. “He will not want you near blaster fire and death.” 

“Ah.” Luke frowned and yanked his shirt one and then began to assemble his weapons. “What is your name?” 

“I am Oola.” 

“Oola,” he held out his lightsaber and then his hand. Across the room Oola wouldn’t be able to grasp it but the gesture was symbolic enough. “My name is Luke Skywalker and I’m here to rescue you.” In his head he directed to Leia. :We missed one. We’ll take her out with us.:

Oola’s sad expression did not falter. “What will you do?” 

“I’m here to kill Jabba,” Luke said and with a swift motion produced the command chip for the transmitters for every slave in Jabba’s grasp. Finally Oola seemed moved. 

“Have you shorted it out?” She demanded and the rebel nodded. “What will you do with it?”

“Destroy it,” he said simply and tossed it into the air. A second later a brilliant green blade came to slide and cut the distasteful piece of technology in half. Oola’s eyes widened and then she straightened and snapped. 

“Turn around.” 

“Err.” A little surprised he did as she asked and face the way he’d come in. He didn’t sense any animosity from her but heard the twi’lek moving around. :Leia, eta?:

:Five minutes, re-sealing the grate now.: 

:Jabba’s a little distracted with celebrating the crash of the galactic stock market.: Luke winced as something behind him crashed. :Did you actually finish your saber?: 

:I finished it!: Leia’s voice rounded in his head like a gong. A much nicer gong than his father’s but still loud. :You just haven’t seen it.” 

“You may turn around.” Oola decreed and Luke held up a mental hand for Leia to stop. Oola had rid herself of the black gauze mesh and had instead donned the clothes of whichever person inhabited the room. Her shirt was too baggy and large and her pants were several inches too long but the woman was glowing in the force. She sat on the bed long enough to shove her tiny feet into enormous boots that didn’t fit. The laces were done up as tightly as possible and she nodded firmly. “I want a cloak as soon as possible.”

“Uh.” Luke had intended to wear the traditional Jedi cloak that Yoda had had commissioned for him but shrugged and pulled it out of the bag and tossed it the twi’leks direction. “You look like General Syndulla.”

“Who is that?” 

“A general in the Rebellion, a green twi’lek.” Luke paused as the woman pulled the cloak around her. “She’s one of the best Starfighter pilots in the galaxy.”

“She is?” Oola vanished in the depths of the cloak and something like contentment settled on her shoulders. “Where are you going now?” 

“The throne room. My associates and myself have a little…drama to put on.” Luke said. 

“I will go with you.” Oola looked around for a weapon and then accepted the blaster Luke passed her. 

“Errr, it’s going to be dangerous. You could die.”

“Then I will die free.” Oola declared and wrapped a last bit of scarf around her face and thus she was effectively rendered genderless and without a species. 

“As you wish.” Luke bowed and then hoisted his supply bag onto his shoulder and opened the door. :Leia, we’re on our way.:

:Our way?: 

:I brought some help.: Luke moved silently through the palace toward the rendezvous point. :Is everyone out?:

:Out and ready to go as soon as we are.: 

:Excellent.: Luke sidled along the last bit of the wall until he came upon the curve and saw his friend crouching there. “Leia.”

“Luke,” she nodded to him and then too Oola. “Are you armed?”

“Yes and I am a good shot.” 

“Luke and I have something specific in mind. Are you a decent sniper?”

“I will be.” Oola promised. 

“Excellent,” Leia nodded, “When Luke does something stupid start firing into the crowd.”\

“Hey!” 

“Take out the bounty hunters first, Luke and I’ll get the rest.”

“Understood.” Oola nodded, “There is a Lords hole I can use. It is the favored place of eavesdroppers.”

“Excellent.” Luke nearly grinned at the truly mercenary glint in Leia’s eyes. “Luke, let’s go.” She grabbed his arm and they walked toward the throne room, heads high. 

#$#$

Boba Fett hated visiting Jabba the Hutt. Sure, he’d take contracts from him and sure he’d take his money but he hated visiting the slimy sack of sentient blubber. Whatever room he had waiting for him usually had one of two of the slaves of the palace. Boba was not a particularly principled man and had done more illegal things for money than most Imperial officers did for attention but he really just wasn’t interested in sex or making the women and men feel any worse about their already miserable lives. His default excuse was that he was injured and couldn’t strain himself too much right now. 

It worked. Which was why he was sitting in the darkest corner of the throne room pretending to bandage his leg. Also, today he knew he had a special mission ahead of him. If he was busy bedding some unknown slave he knew that he wouldn’t be long for this galaxy. He had a job to do. 

Fett paused when Max Rebo stopped playing and the party came to a screeching halt. He grinned and looked up. Standing at the main entrance to the throne room, bristling with weapons and bad intentions were his targets. Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker both wore black clothes and matching scowls. 

“Jabba,” Organa glanced to the frozen form of Han Solo and her expression tightened. “I have come for Captain Solo.” The protocol droid beside Jabba blinked and Jabba began to speak. 

“The mighty Jabba welcomes such well-known rebels to his humble palace. He expressions his congratulations for disposing of the galactic stock market and the subsequent reins of sanity on the universe. He is willing to bestow his favor upon you both.” 

“I am here for my Prince Consort.” Organa’s voice thundered and Fett winced. His dad used to tell him stories of what Princesses and Queens did to protect their consorts. 

“His excellency expresses his great and honorable pity for your poor choice in consort.” The droids mechanical voice did not echo nearly as well as Organa’s but the point was being made. “He wishes to remind the young princess of her consort’s previous record with commitment.” 

For a moment, the stance that Organa took reminded Boba so strongly of Lord Vader he could nearly imagine her wearing the black armorweave. 

“I warn you,” Skywalker’s voice rang out, he seemed much more collected than Organa. Of course it wasn’t his consort hanging up like some post-modern chunk of art. Unless they were both her consorts. Which would be an entertaining idea considering just how different their personalities were. “To not underestimate our power.” The room froze with even deeper dread when they both produced lightsabers. “Free Solo or die, Jabba.”

“His greatness the mighty Jabba may forgive your insolence if you.” The droid shrieked and exploded when a blaster bolt buried itself in its chassis. Bounty hunters and scum dove for cover as blaster bolts began to rain from on high. Fett took the opportunity to dispose a few of his co-workers that were bringing weapons to bare on the Jedi. 

Organa’s blade was deep burnished gold that flashed like so many rays of sunlight as she slashed her way through the crowd. Skywalker’s was a more familiar shade of green that deflected bolts with unerring accuracy, sending them back into their owners and his enemies. Person by person the throne room was emptied of the living, replaced by cooling corpses as the criminals fought to overcome the combined power of the rebel Jedi. 

Fett would admit it was an impressive sight. One had hadn’t seen since the fall of the Republic when Jedi were abundant and abundantly annoying. He was almost grateful to note that they weren’t just cutting off limbs and leaving the criminal screaming. If they sliced or cut with the blade their opponent was not getting back up. Grimly he picked off IG-88, Max Rebo, the obnoxious guards that couldn’t think at all, and then the last pirate in the group. He was just about to unload a round into Jabba’s face when someone beat him to it. From the alcove above the throne room he was too small to fit into came a volley of deadly fire that took out Jabba’s eyes and then the rest of his face. Skywalker and Organa both grimaced with equal amounts of distaste as the Hutts face began to melt off his body. 

He waited patiently until the sniper had vented enough for both Skywalker and Organa to notice him. “So the Jedi are back.” His hands raised beside his head as both lightsabers were pointed at him. “Good job, Skywalker, Organa.” 

“Fett.” Her voice was colder than Hoth. She advanced on him. “Haven’t you gloated enough?”

“I’m not here to gloat. I’m here on orders.” Slowly, to show he wasn’t reaching for a weapon he reached into his pocket and produced a chip. Skywalker summoned it from his grasp and frowned at the sight he found. 

“Leia, he’s protecting us. Don’t cut him in two please.” 

“Protecting?” 

“Yes,” Skywalker frowned wryly, “I guess Tang didn’t expect us to manage this without getting ourselves killed.” 

“She trusts you,” Fett lied easily, “She wants to make sure her insurance is well-protected.” 

“And if we get rid of you?” Organa demanded, no lowering her blade. “You have taken Hutt contracts.”

“If you want to fight me fine but wait until my work is done.” Fett shouldered his weapon and Skywalker smiled. 

“We’ll wait. I still haven’t gotten you back for the lovely little parting gift from a few years ago.” 

“When the war is done, I’ll fight you both.” Fett agreed, “But I know you’re getting the slaves out of here and getting Solo.” Organa’s blade collapsed into the hilt and she turned from him and focused her attention on the frozen form of her consort. Sensing they were done with him Fett shrugged a last time and made his way through the fallen corpses and toward his ship. 

“I should have done this on the bridge of the Death Star.” He heard Organa mutter second before the electronic whine of the carbonite unfreezing was heard. Considering the two had just massacred and entire contingent of slavers, bounty hunters, and murdering scum it wasn’t that hard to see Organa doing just that a few years prior. 

#$#$#

Oola had long pitied the man in carbonite that had been hung from in the throne room. Anyone who could anger Jabba enough to be immortalized in that stuff must have been a good being. She watched as Princess Organa caught the man just as he collapsed from his encasement. 

“Who’s there.” He gasped, his voice full of the water and fluids that had been trapped in his lungs. “Who’s there?”

Leia Organa pulled the man closer, “Someone who loves you.” She breathed and kissed him soundly. Oola frowned but said nothing and Luke only shrugged at the scene. 

“Leai,” Solo said as they finally disengaged after an inconceivably length of time. “What happened? What’s going on? I can’t see.”

“Hibernation sickness,” Leia replied, cradling his head. “We expected this to happen. Don’t worry, we have a medic standing by.”

“What about Jabba?”

“Oola melted his face off.” Luke said proudly and beamed at the woman.

“Who’s Oola?” Han shivered violently, “Who’s here?”

“I am Oola.” Oola declared.

“We need to get out of here.” Skywalker helped pull Solo to his feet. “Talking around would be nice but we’re on a time limit. This place blows in five and a half minutes.” 

“You rigged this place to blow?” 

“Sure did.” Skywalker grinned and patted his friend. “Oola, do you want to come with us?”

“Where are you taking my people?”

“Just a short way to a safe location just next to the southern hemisphere.” Skywalker replied as they carted Han Solo over a guard. “There’re people waiting with surgery materials, false ID’s and ships to leave and money.” 

“I will go there.” 

“You’ll have to come on the Falcon with us.” Leia said, “Our other ship has taken off.”

“Very well.” Oola pulled the cloak further around herself as they emerged into the mid-afternoon sunlight. It was hot and airless out here but even this disgusting temperature could not dampen her excitement. There was a beep and a thrill from the right and from behind a boulder rolled a blue and white astromech droid. 

“Artoo, great to see you. Is the ship ready to go?” The droid beeped at his master and rolled his photoreceptor at her. “Yes, I know. She’s Oola, she helped us but the we’re running out of time. We need to get clear of the explosion.”

“We’re all going to die.” Solo grumbled and Leia laughed. 

“Don’t worry, Luke’s tutors make sure he knew where to place the charges. The place is going to collapse inward not outward.” 

“Thanks for ruining the surprise.” Luke said and they made it a far enough distance to duck behind another line of rocks. He fished a holo-cam out of the bag. “Now, for history.” 

“What?” Han asked, shaking still but pressing as close as possible to Leia. 

“He brought a holo-cam!” Leia glared at Luke who shrugged and shot her a smug grin. 

“For history.” He said without looking down at the device as he flicked it on. “Everyone say hi!”

“Go kriff yourself.” Han said. He shook his head violently, “When does that medic get here?”

“Once the debris settles.” Leia kissed his forehead. The blond checked his chrono and then glanced at the twi’lek. 

“Do you want to watch?”

“Yes!” She and Luke stood up and leaned over the boulder. He aimed the holo-cam at the palace and nodded at her. 

“Just a few more seconds.” He whispered and after a few beats a tremendous blast was heard. It echoed across the wastes of the desert, rolling across the sand and upward. Brick, mortar, and stone mixed with fire and smoke blasted outward at the base. Oola cringed at the noise but made herself watch and listen without filtering the sight out. Just as the base of the last tower went the entire building groaned and began to lean toward the center. Walls buckled, the towers leaned and began to crumble into the dome roof in the middle. All as one the rest of the building shattered under the impact and an enormous cloud of dirt went rising into the bright blue sky. A second later a high-pitched squeal of pain followed the collapse. Eventually tapering off into ringing silence. 

Jabba the Hutt’s palace was no more. 

Oola stared at the remains and blinked and then buried head in her hands. It was gone. Her pain, her humiliation; the source of it all was gone. Destroyed in a single day by the vengeful who cared.

“Oola?” She didn’t reply, she didn’t have to. Skywalker was respectful of her need for silence and waited until she looked up.

“We will all be free now.” She said, “All of us.” 

#$#$#

Gohan, thief, scum and all-around dreadful schemer, was sure that the universe despised her. Anyone who thought working as an assistant to a HoloNet newscaster thought it was a real job needed to be shot. She would normally never tolerate this sort of insult or degradation from anyone. Already, she’d planned his death a thousand times over and was more than ready to strangle him on air with her bare hands the next time he even considered leering at her. 

“What’s up next, sweet spark?” The older human with a florid face and several chins inspected his painted face in the mirror and shot her a nasty smile. 

“Lord Vader has had several successful meetings with several planetary leaders in the last week.” Gohan chirped and handed the human his mic. His hand snagged hers and it was all the alien could do to not break his wrist. 

“Sweet spark, what do I care about Vader?”

“Lord Vader is taking the necessary steps to provide stability in the galaxy in the recent weeks of turmoil.” She quoted cheerfully and passed him the flimsi as well. He was forced to let go of her wrist and she took a moment to examine it. The paint wouldn’t smear except under the most corrosive materials like engine fluid or that man’s sweat. 

“What is this shav?” He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Look at this. He’s off doing missions to try and talk to people but what good is that?” 

“He’s already arrested Prince Xizor, sir.” Gohan’s fake green eyes widened in polite surprise, “And the trials already underway. He’s the one who’s been directing the ISB agents that didn’t defect to find where the money went. He’s already located the billions of credits that were stolen.”

“I know,” he snapped, “I reported that last night. Don’t tell me you’re turning into one of those idiots who thinks he’s worth anything.”

“I don’t see anyone else trying to help the galaxy as much as he is.” Gohan told the human primly as if she hadn’t been responsible for the entire mess in the first place. “Oh, and Princess Vader is due to arrive on Imperial Center in a month, we’re all very excited.”

“Princess Who?”

“Vader.” Gohan felt wicked and enjoyed every second of it, “He’s adopted a girl, apparently, a smuggler. Or, well, once was a smuggler. I don’t know much, it’s in the report though. I think he did to get other people to adopt as well, that’s what the report said. So there won’t be as many orphans and such to take care of once that new bill gets written.”

“I’ve spent the last few years talking about nothing but rebel scum and holo-flicks and some dumb starlets and maybe a battle. How is it I’m suddenly reporting on statistics, galactic policy, and actualy politics?”

“The blockade along the outer rim by the Admiral and that ISB lady is trouble for everyone, sir. Rations are getting tighter. I heard the outer rim is a mess right now. Hutts trying to fight for power while the Navy and ISB that don’t want to hold onto the Empire are fighting back and everyone else is caught in the cross fire.”

“Huh. Well, I guess times do change. This better than Wnyssa Starflare having a baby.”

“She’s not, sir.” Gohan handed the make-up artist the man’s toupee. “And the statistics about the banking clans is coming in for the evening report.”

“Hmph,” Absorbed in his mostly real news casts the human finally ignored her. “Get me some caf, sweet spark.”

“Sure thing, sir!” Gohan forced herself not to reach for the poison and to keep her face clear of any murderous intentions. 

#$#4

“If you resign yourself to death then you will become as laconic and fearful as the men you despise, Anakin.”

“My death will be Luke’s protection. My death will be Leia’s freedom and happiness.” The Sith said, his blue eyes flickered up to look at Qui Gon. “It must be so. When I become one with the Force then I will accept any punishment it may offer me.”

“Anakin, you have.”

“Changed much. I know.” Vader frowned and leaned back in his chair. “My master is likely to notice these schemes.”

“How could he assume that you have been arranging these happenings? There is not enough evidence.” 

“He will guess, he will deduce, he will surmise.” Vader said and then closed his eyes. “Then we will all be doomed.” 

#$#$

Tang leaned over the clone’s shoulder and peered at the image on his datapad. “How much longer?”

“I’ve got the first few up, sir. Ready to upload, ready to go but this one’s taking longer.”

“Why? The others were fine.”

“I had inspiration before, sir and..” the clone wilted under her stare, “I’ve never drawn Emperor Palpatine as a deadbeat husband sir and trying to draw Lord Vader in…this.” The man blushed and pointed the reference picture of a flowering apron, “This is so wrong.” He groaned. 

“This is fine,” Tang ordered, “Look, your art style is not known. Political cartoons mean more to people than you think. Once we drop these on the HoloNet they’re going to be copied, echoed and redrawn in a hundred different styles. Do not worry about getting caught.” 

“That’s not what I’m worried about, sir. Lord Vader is to be respected.” 

“Bah! Finish this one and we’ll send it off with the others. Prepare to have your work published across the galaxy.”

“All I wanted to do was paint.” He despaired but returned to his datapad as ordered to finish the cartoon. 

#$#$

Doora’s face was scrunched up in a confused frown as she read the latest post of her favorite mechanic holo-net site. There was a picture she was looking at but she wasn’t really sure if her eyes were working or not.   
“Vat is this?” Black Four asked. His name was Dime and he was partially attached to the bad temper of the Baby Black. “You are frowning. Bebe, why?” His enormous hands came up on either side of her head to smooth the furrow between her brows. Doora leaned back and shoved datapad between them. 

“What am I looking at?” She demanded.

“I…” His voice was choked off. “Vaht?”

“Urgh, give it back. I’ll ask someone else.”

“No!” Dima held the device away and stared down at her, shocked. 

“I want to know what I’m looking at.” Dima didn’t answer and instead hurried from the common room to search for Colonel Fel. He found the man in conference with Agent Kallus and Admiral Piett. 

“Black Four.”

“Sir.” He swallowed his accent the best he could and shoved the datapad at the trio. “Doora discovered this. I..I do not know…” He trailed off and then cringed when the trio caught sight of the particular image displayed. 

“Good Gods Man!” Piett exclaimed, “What is this?”

“Baby Black found it, Admiral.” Piett passed the Pad to Fel who went white and handed it off to Kallus. “I do not believe she was looking for it but it popped up.”

“This is highly inappropriate.” Fel muttered, “Admiral, sir. I will be speaking to her.” 

“As you should,” Piett said faintly, “I will not tolerate such…such... depravity aboard this vessel.”

“She wanted to know what it was.” Black Four reported and Fel looked tired. 

“Just as well, I’m not sure she would be able to identify a political cartoon at her age and given this galaxy.” 

The cartoon in question was highly irregular. It depicted a cartoonish Lord Vader whose mask conveyed human expression, to a degree, frantically leaning back against a wall. The wall in question was cracked and broken with streams of water shooting through. They were labeled ‘chaos’, ‘rebels’, ‘defectors’, ‘Hutts,’ and ‘omnicide’. Beside Lord Vader were the recognizable figures of the aliens chosen to write the law protecting orphans and youthful criminals. They were all trying to plaster over the holes and cracks. Off to the side, lounging in a chair with a drink that had tiny umbrella sticking out of it, was Emperor Palpatine. 

The artist had written in bold letters over the man the words. “Not doing anything.” 

The four men seemed entranced with the horrified fascination of watching a star ship crash into a planet. It was horrifying, terrible, spoke of great repercussions among the general population and totally entertaining. 

“Someone should inform Lord Vader.” Kallus said quietly, not moving. 

“Indeed.” Piett agreed and he too didn’t move. The Admiral, Colonel, Agent, and Pilot all stared at the sort of art that hadn’t been seen in almost a decade. Down in the right corner was something like a stylized ‘t’.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader is in a snit over Tang's plan.

The force did have a sense of humor. A terrible, sickening sense of humor that was probably the reason Vader had fallen in the first place. He kept getting shoved into these sorts of situations and reacting poorly. He recognized the art style and the little ‘t’ on the bottom that was a hasty scrawl meant to mimic the visors of the Clones helmets. The signature belonged to clone responsible for the re-painting of common rooms and the mass of art-work that was carefully preserved and stored in his dungeon. Micha had insisted that any stolen art work ought to find their way to Bast Castle for preservation. 

“Cadet Doora found this, milord.” Colonel Fel reported, sweat shining on his brow. “We are unaware of its origins or the artist. She stated that she did not know what it was.” 

“I believe this was an accident, milord.” Agent Kallus said and pursed his lips, “Not that she was intentionally looking for such…”

“Yellow journalism.” Piett interjected carefully. Vader eyed the men and wondered why they were acting as if coming across political cartoons was akin to uploading porn malware to the datapad. He was less concerned with Doora’s discovery of the cartoon than what it meant from Tang’s devious mind. She was moving off script and knowing the bitter information hoarding sort of personality Tang had lovingly cultivated since her birth Vader wouldn’t be figuring out what she was up to until he was dead. 

“Indeed?” He wondered what Luke would think of this sort of display. Or if he was going to be jealous by the political games he was about to commence. Luke had been out of connection since his approach to Tatooine. 

“Lord Vader.” His aide stepped into his office, “Forgive me for interrupting but intelligence has a Code Red Report.”

“Leave,” He waved to the pilots and the agents but gestured for Piett to remain. When the report was opened he almost laughed. The beautiful recording of Jabba’s palace going up in flames was broadcast in the room. Admiral Piett blinked with confusion but waited silently. “It seems that the Hutt clans have been unsuccessful in ridding themselves from the defectors. If this is the result.”

“You believe that Director Isard is responsible for this?”

“Jabba controlled the majority of the pilots on Nar Shadda and held enormous wealth on the Outer Rim. If he was choosing to rid himself of Imperial control then they must have taken enough insult to resort to this.” The recording played again. 

“And the real reason?” Piett ventured and Vader assessed his chosen Admiral again. The man was impressive and would likely survive whatever reign of terror Tang chose to push his direction. 

“He supported the defectors. He was removed to destabilize the Hutts and Isard.”

“Rebels?”

“Indeed.”

“The cartoons, milord?”

“The architect sees my lack of a proper public relations team to be a bother.” Piett nodded. “Have Doora packed and transferred to the guest quarters attached to my rooms.” Vader seethed silently as he issued these orders. He had been intending those rooms for Luke. “And issue a missive that she is to be referred to as Princess or Lady.” Admiral Piett nodded. “Do you have something to add, Admiral?”

Admiral was well-trained in Vader’s ways. As much as he did not want to reveal his inner thoughts he did as ordered. “Ca…Princess Doora will not take well to this change. She is most comfortable around her fellow pilots.”

“She will adapt.” Vader intoned. “See to this at once.” His displeasure sped Piett’s departure and in seconds he was alone again. Still seething he stalked to the quarters he’d had prepared for Luke. They were handsome rooms, with the decorations and amenities he had thought Luke would enjoy. He hadn’t been anticipating dragging Luke straight to Bast Castle. He had planned on stick Luke in these rooms and taking him around the galaxy with him. 

This had not been that case. Vader swept into the main living room and glowered at the attractive furniture. Luke had never even stepped foot in these room. He hadn’t used the clothes, slept in the bed, looked out the viewport. Nothing. Luke was absent from these rooms which hurt more than Vader wanted to admit. 

Having to quarter Tang’s distraction just a few dozen meters from him was galling. It was infuriating. It angered him beyond all reason. Vader traced a model of a TIE Advanced carefully, picking up the decoration before setting it back on the desk. He knew why Tang was insisting on presenting Doora to the galaxy. News about her adoption had already broken, Imperial Center was anticipating her arrival. The Emperor wanted to meet her. 

All of this was for Luke and Vader’s protection during the coup. For Vader it was by the implication he had disowned his son. By taking a different child as his own and naming her ‘Princess’ the appearance of Vader’s weakness would be gone. Any leverage that Palpatine thought he could gain with Luke would be gone. For Luke, it would stem the tide of suspicion that Luke was under in the Rebellion. Since Vader had dropped Luke’s bounty to its original price and that the galaxy was embroiled in such turmoil to make people forget about the rebel pilot that destroyed the Death Star. Factoring in the PR spectacle she’d create. A few dozen scandals likely to erupt combined with the publics new focus on the government. There was finally enough chaos to bring the ridiculous fools that kept their heads down and eyes shuddered against the crimes of the Empire into prominence. Vader held no attention or care for these sorts, those that had been so entitled under Republic protection and still whined, taking no care for helping those who needed it more. 

He was not moping. No matter what Tang would think. He was too dignified to mope. 

“But why here?” Doora’s voice echoed through the living room. “What was wrong with my closet?”

“It was not a closet, Princess.”

“Hey! Cut it off with the Princess stuff and it was too a closet. Just because you shoved a bed into doesn’t make something a bedroom.”

“I’m fairly sure that’s how it works, Princess.”

“Look, Fel. I get it. I’m not the best but if this is just some sick sort of revenge for your jacket then maybe we can work something out.”

“I was never angry about the jacket, Princess.” Came Fel’s tired voice. “I was only disappointed.”

“Aw, jeez.” 

“This is by order of your father.”

“Gag.” 

“Princess.” Fel sounded exhausted. Vader could understand, dealing with children of that age was a tiring experience. “Please don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Doora demanded. Her face was pinched in an ugly frown as the two entered the living room. “I did the work. I studied. I did all the flight sims, I listened to all the authority I was supposed to listen to. Why the hells are you guys kicking me out?’

“You see a transfer to private quarters as a punishment?” Vader whirled around, snarling his irritation at the ingratitude the child dared display. These were rooms fit for a prince and the pilot could only complain? 

“Wahhhh!” Doora backpedaled, “How long have you been there?”

“I have been waiting.” He growled, “Colonel, leave us.” 

“Milord?”

“Now. Colonel Fel.” Soontir glanced between him and the young pilot a few times before he saluted and left. His reluctance was enough to set Doora on edge. The moment the man was out of the room Vader turned on the teenager. “Had I known any sort of indulgence you have been offered would have led to this spoiled brat behavior I would have never allowed them!”

“What indulgences?” Doora demanded, dropping her bag and her helmet to the floor. Her form was heavier now, eyes brighter, and her voice clearer. His men had been taking care of her. “I haven’t gotten a bit of leeway the entire time I’ve been under arrest. Don’t kid yourself. I’ve been working and working. All I wanted to know was why I was being kicked out! I’m not complaining or being selfish. It’s called curiosity!”

“Do not take such a tone with me, child.” He seethed. This was not Luke. This was not Luke. This was not his son and he had never hated any more for less. 

“So, what?” Doora had, impossibly, become more stubborn. “I was curious! I wanted to know why you suddenly deciding to drag me from the lower levels without so much as a ‘by your leave’! Unless asking questions is also against the Imperial rules too!” 

His retort and her punishment was on the edge of his tongue when he realized very suddenly that that was exactly what Doora was looking for. It was the middle of the sleep-cycle. They day had gone poorly for both of them and she was being dragged from the comforts she’d come to appreciate being a member of his Death Squadron. The foolish girl was spoiling for a fight. 

With considerable effort Vader tucked his ire in and sucked in a deep breath and leaned away. “All will be explained in the morning.” His reply was clipped. “Your rooms are here; the bedroom is through there. Good night.” Black fabric flared about as Vader stormed from the room and into the hall that connected the two quarters. There were no Stormtroopers here, no officers. This level was designed for privacy and isolation.

In the silence of his own chamber and his helmet drawn off he only distantly noted Qui Gon appear. 

“What do you want, Old Man.” He rasped when it was clear that he was not going anywhere. 

“Anakin.”

“I am Vader.”

“Anakin.”

“What would your precious padawan say? That I have picked up another useless lifeform? A pet, perhaps? Or some useless entertainment? Hmmm, I wonder who would have encouraged this?” Obi Wan had no reappeared since his death and if Vader ever saw the wrinkled bundle of idiocy he’d condemn him personally to the pits of hell. 

“Anakin, please.” Qui Gon set a ghostly hand on his shoulder and seemed to sit beside him. “You are conflicted and frightened.” Vader snorted his disbelief. “Please do not antagonize the child.” 

“She is insolent and disrespectful.” 

“She is also not Luke.” Qui Gon said, “I understand your frustration, young one, but Doora is only a child. You know how she suffers. Not to mention,” Vader heard the slight smile in his voice even if he wasn’t looking at him. “I do not believe your Captain would appreciate your continued antagonism toward her.” Gritting his teeth hurt enough that he stopped after a moment. “It is unfair to punish her for something she has no control over.”

“Jinn.”

“Please, Anakin.” Vader glowered at the side his chamber. 

“I was not the one looking for an argument.” 

“Hmmm.” Deciding to ignore the Jedi, Vader closed his eyes and reached for Luke. The boy was distracted up until the moment Vader made his presence known. 

:Father!: Luke’s voice washed away his concerns and fears. His insecurities and stress. 

:Son, I have received the footage of Jabba’s destruction. Well done, my son.: 

:Thanks. Father, you should have seen us. Leia is fantastic. She’s learning so much from Ahsoka! You should have seen her.: 

:I have also received intelligence f what took place in the throne room. Fett was most impressed.: He had also been impressed by the sheer destructive power that Leia wielded. Truly she was heir to Anakin’s passion and temper. 

:I saw you’re presenting Doora as Princess Vader.: Luke’s voice softened. 

:Are you jealous, my son?:

:A little.: Luke admitted. :But I know why it is safer and better for the coup to keep Doora in the spotlight instead of me. I hope she’ll be okay.:

:She is of little concern to you, Luke.:

:Compassion.” Luke replied cheekily, :Is the primary concern of a Jedi, besides, I like Doora. She’s a good mechanic.: 

:Hmm.: There was a moment of judgmental silence as Vader turned his thoughts around in his head. :And how is your training going?:

:I am driving Yoda to distraction and scandalizing the High Council. I love it.:

:Tang has been a bad influence on you,: Vader rumbled. :I approve.: Luke’s voiceless laughter soothed his concerns for the boy. 

:Mothma saw me with a book of banned poetry and she can’t say anything because it would be too hypocritical of her to mention it. I thought she was going to have a fit. It’s almost like they want me to be a Rebel but not too much of a Rebel.: 

:Hmmm. A concern you should mention to Tang.:

:Leia stole my books too.: Luke reported and Vader sent back a wordless question. :Tang gave me some books before I left. Some about politics, other about social studies, a dozen or so on history and a bunch of others. Leia borrowed some, including the book Tang wrote.:

:Ah.: Tang had been the most dangerous strategists the Separatists had possessed. He was unsure what sort of destructive hell his daughter would be able to unleash were she inspired by the former High General. 

:I had the same reaction.: Luke hummed down their connection. Vader basked in the starlight attention. :Father, how are you?:

:I am functioning.:

:That’s not an answer, Father. You seem…unwell.: 

:Do not concern yourself with me, my son. Focus on your tasks and studies.: 

:I can do all three, Father.: Luke reminded him gently. Vader stared blankly at the wall of his chamber and hated how his son could care for someone so unworthy as him. 

:I miss you.: He told his son honestly. :I wish for you to be at my side, changing the galaxy with me.:

:Father:

:When the war is won.: Luke promised. :Then we’ll be together. Then we can be a family again, I promise, Father.:

:That may be harder to accomplish after the war ends than you think, my son.: 

:I trust Tang to get us out of this mess.: Luke told him. :I know she’s got a plan.:

:Does your High Command have a lead on which Imperial commander is controlling them now?:

:No. Leia says to trust them but I think she’s referring to Tang. Not you.:

:I do not blame your…friends mistrust in me. It is well founded.:

:Hmm. Is it late on your ship right now? Maybe you should go to sleep.:

:I rested well enough, my son.:

:That’s not an answer.: Luke pointed out. :I’m being called. I’ll talk tomorrow. I promise.: 

:Indeed, my son.: There was deafening silence that followed Luke’s disconnection and he covered his eyes. Luke was anticipating the impossible when this war ended. He wanted what Vader could not give. 

#$#$#

“So’s anything interesting happened, Princess?”

“A few things.” Leia leaned over the prone form of the smuggler and picked up the damp cloth Chewie had thrown in the room. “How do you feel?”

“Like a defrosted steak, my eyesight’s coming back.” 

“How else would you be able to fly?” She asked, absently mopping the sweating brow. “The medics say you’ll come down with a fever in a few hours as a result of the carbonation.” 

“You can play nurse.” Han joked and winched when Leia’s hand smacked him firmly in the chest. “Ow!” 

“There is Alliance news, Han. We’ve made an alley in the upper tiers of the Empire. They’re helping us dismantle the Empire from all angles. Plus the addition of a new fleet, several new defectors working to help us.” 

“You don’t sound happy.” Han observed, catching her hand in his as she drew away, “Who is it, your worship?”

“Classified.” Leia inhaled sharply. “I’m not.”

“Vader?” She forced back a sigh. Sometimes she forgot that Han was not as dumb as he sometimes like to pretend. 

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

“He. Han…he’s Luke’s father.”

“What!” Han nearly rose off his bunk before Leia shoved him back down. 

“He captured Luke off of Hoth after we left. Took him to his castle and.”

“Did he brainwash the kid. Stars, this guy murdered his father.” 

“He didn’t murder his father. Vader is his father, I could feel the truth of the statement. I knew they were both telling the truth.” Leia carefully brushed back the damp locks of brown. 

“Careful there, you’re starting to sound like the kid. All the Jedi force nonsense. Don’t tell me you’re drinking the slop too.”

“Some of it.” Leia smiled at the unseeing eye beneath her. “I’m force sensitive too.”

Han swore furiously for a few seconds and leaned up just enough to cup the side of her face in his hands. “What do you need me to do. I’ll blast that bastards face off if you just ask. I’ll.” 

“That won’t be necessary, Han.” She laughed a bit. “There’s more.” For the next hour she proceeded to fill the smuggler in on all that had happened in the last few months. About the theft that crashed the market, Vader’s newest bid for public opinion, the stories of Luke’s training with Yoda. Leia’s training with Ahsoka. The general schemes that were flying thick and fast through the galaxy. Han listened with open mouthed wonder and only covered his useless eyes when she was done.

“A guy misses a lot taking a nap.”

“I’m sorry it took so long.”

“I’m just glad you got to me in the end.” Han said, “I had some really weird dreams.”

“Really?” Leia chuckled, “What about?”

“I was an archeologist.” Han said, chuffing with laughter. “I fought some Imp guys with a whip. I had a stupid hat.” 

“Oh, Han.” 

“I married a dark-haired lady who kept yelling at me.” Han grinned. 

“Really?” Leia teased and kissed his forehead gently. “I’m going to go get the medic. Stay in bed, Han.” 

“Do I have to? You could join me.”

“Good night, Han.”

“Night, Princess.” Han said quietly, holding onto her hand until she pulled away. “See in the morning.”

When she’d made it to the hallway, Luke pounced.

“How did he take it?”

“Well, I suppose.” She replied, frowning at the young Jedi. “Luke, why didn’t you tell him?”

“I don’t…I thought he might take it better if it was from you. I was afraid.” 

“He’s your friend, Luke.”

“I know.” Luke’s blue eyes slanted to the side in shame. “I just.” 

“He made a few jokes about Sith spawn and your lack of height but not much else.”

“And?” Leia sighed and pulled Luke into an abandoned closet and checked to make sure the door was sealed. 

“He knows that its Vader supporting us.” 

“High Command is already getting twitchy,” Luke said, “About our benefactor. They want me to tell them about them. I can’t tell them its Father.” 

“Then lie.” Leia hissed, “This secret is vital to our plan.”

“I know.” Luke rubbed is forehead, “But Yoda’s there and he knows when I’m lying.” 

“So don’t like and don’t tell them the truth.” 

“That’s not possible!” 

“Take a page out of Kenobi’s book.” Leia rolled her eyes, “Give them the truth from a certain point of view.”

“I almost wish I hadn’t told you about that.” 

“No you don’t.” 

“No I don’t.” Luke crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “Leia, I don’t. I’m afraid Yoda will tell the High Command.”

“I believe he might as well.” 

“He still believes that I might have been brainwashed or that Father’s influencing me but he’s not. I’m not being influenced by anyone.” 

“I know, Luke. They…they’ve been shutting me out too. Since I started training with Ahsoka. Since I started going on more missions.”

“I don’t understand why, though.” Luke rubbed his forehead. “I’m trying to help. I want to help. We’re helping.”

“We’ll have to lie very impressively to the Command.” Leia said, “half-truths only. They cannot know Vader controls the Rebellion now.” 

“Not since they’ve been picking up more ships and people.” Luke grumbled, “Or that the entire war is being run by a bitter woman with a grudge the size of a moon. You’ve seen the HoloNet. Father’s been running around the galaxy trying to patch the mess up and showing off what a hard worker he is.”

“It’s working.” 

“I never thought I’d hear that.” Luke admitted. “How well is it working?”

“The polls are up. He looks good on Holo. Him adopting Doora is his equivalent of him kissing babies for votes. People are all over it. They love it. They can’t wait to meet her officially.”

“She’s not going to like that. She really isn’t. All she wants is to build stuff and be left alone.” Luke said.

“Are you jealous?” 

“I…a little. No point in lying I guess. I wanted to be with father but I get why Tang told me no.” 

“She didn’t tell you no. She yelled at you for twenty minutes. “

“Tang doesn’t yell. She talks like she’s yelling but she doesn’t actually yell.” 

Leia stared at him. The dim light of the closet highlighting the sabers on her hips and the pinched expression she wore. “Luke, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” Luke told her. “Just, feeling a little off right now.” 

“Do you know why?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, “I’ll be fine though.” The bulb above them flickered. “Do you want to go spar?” 

“Spar? Ahsoka is mediating out in the fields but I think that clearing is free.” Luke shivered, remembering the vision he had seen on Dogabah. 

“umm, how about the landing platform up top. No one ever goes up there.”

“Luke, it’s a make out point.”

“So we’ll push the lovely couple into the creek.” Luke did not want to spar in a clearing. He still felt the close attention of the force every time he wandered into one. 

“Alright, fine. Have it your way but I need to get the medic to look at Han first.” Leia grumbled, “Naughty Nurse, honestly.”

“He said that?” Luke gasped, only partly scandalized, “That’s hilarious and terrible.”

“Don’t you have a Rogue Squadron to talk to?” Leia demanded. “Go yell at them for a few hours. We’ll meet up at six.” 

“Alright, alright. I’ll go.”

“Good.” Leia glared a bit and then poked Luke’s forehead herself. “Stop. Everything is going to work out.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the optimist.” Luke whined dramatically, draping himself over the buck of cleaning fluid. “You’re just happy that you got Han back. I bet you’ll be back to normal in a few days when Han actually keeps talking.”

“I should probably tell him what it means to be a Prince Consort.” Leia mused, “it is important.”

“What does it mean?”

“I’ll tell you later, Luke.” Leia said and punched his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Right.” They tumbled out of the closet and found themselves face to face with Ahsoka Tano. 

“Hello.” Luke said carefully. The woman had been betrayed by Vader twice now. Anakin Skywalker apprentice and friend not to mention surrogate daughter. Luke have been avoiding her in the hope she would not be taking any bad feelings out on him. 

“You’ve been ignoring me, Skywalker.” Tano said. Her arms were crossed with annoyance and Luke noticed just how enormous her muscles were. She was much better trained and had the skill to crush him in an instant. Luke edged behind Leia and grinned weakly. 

“Ignoring? Luke’s been avoiding you.” Leia interjected, roughly shoving Luke away from her and shaking her head. “Want to spar with us?” 

“Where were you planning on sparring?” Ahsoka asked. Luke began inching down the hallway. He made it a total of five inches before a stern orange hand reached out and snagged the edge of his flight suit. “Not so fast, Skywalker.” 

“Are you sure?” He wriggled in her grasp and winced at the firm glare she angled his direction. “I can’t go yell at the Rouges?”

“Come on, blondie. You can yell at them when we’re done talking.”

“Ah! Leia!” He squirmed around as Ahsoka began to drag him down the hall. 

“Have a nice conversation!” Leia called jauntily, laughing. 

“Traitor!” Luke cried as Ahsoka yanked him into a spare room where a few pilots of Blue squadron were lounging. 

“Out.” She ordered and the pilot scrambled to leave. A little astonished by the display of command Luke didn’t protest when she pushed him into a chair and took the opposite seat. In the sudden ringing silence Luke winced. “I’m sorry.” She blurted. 

“What?”

“I’m not used to…I’ve been alone for a few years. People skills are rusty.”

“Oh.” Luke nodded, “I get it. I don’t really mind. You’re okay.”

“Hmmm.” The togruta was enormous, dangerous, well-trained, and fanged. Luke swallowed. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“That much is pretty clear.”

“About…you father.”

“Ah.” Luke nodded. “I’m sorry about the whole..Malchor thing. He’d only just now dropping the Darkness. He’s…he is sorry. I suppose that won’t mean much but.”

“Quiet.” Ahsoka growled. Luke shut his mouth with a click. “I wanted to talk to you about you. You’re my…lineage sibling I guess, since Yoda is training you. I…”

Luke realized just what was wrong with the togruta. Isolation for years had left a mark, silence for years with only the company of a Sith lord of old had left a sizable mark. Combined with the betrayal of her Master and the fall of her entire life around her ears. 

“Too bad about Yoda.” She said suddenly, “I can’t stand him.”

“But didn’t he.”

“He handed me over to the counts and left me to die.” She bared her teeth and Luke realized just how sharp they were. “Executed by the Republic for a crime I didn’t commit and when the dust settled he pretended to act like it was some great test by the Force and no the kriff up of him and his idiot Council.”

“Uh. I was not aware.” 

“Do me a favor, Skywalker. Don’t let him get near me. I don’t trust myself not to do something stupid.” She shook her head. “Anyway, have you met Bridger yet?” 

“Ezra,” Luke frowned, “I know he’s also training as a Jedi but we haven’t talk to him yet. 

“You should talk to him.” The woman ordered, “You’re just as strong as he is. Probably stronger.”

“Right.” 

“He’ll enjoy the company. He’ll be glad he’s not the only one who had to puzzle through Yoda’s half lessons and vague cryptic shav.”

“Yoda is pretty cryptic. He says one thing and means another and then I don’t understand what he’s saying.”

“How are you managing him?”

“Well enough, I suppose. I’m learning how to use the Force but the concepts are confusing and the doctrine is really weird.” 

“Makes sense,” Ahsoka grunted, “Skyguy would have a heretic as a kid.”

“Errr. Aren’t you a heretic? Being a non-jedi and all?”

“Yoda was never big.” Luke stifled a laugh and earned an annoyed eye-roll. “On the idea of tolerance of other Force philosophies which is why you hear about the Gray Jedi but never ever see them. Except Kannan, he’s bringing it back. Him and Ezra.” 

“Does Yoda like Kannan or Ezra?”

“Don’t know,” Ahsoka grumbled, leaning her elbows on her knees, “Don’t care.” Both jolted as a croaky voice echoed from somewhere near their knees. 

“A darkness, you carry, young one.” Yoda said, hobbling into the room. “Both.”

“Yoda.” Luke nodded as respectfully as he could manage. Ahsoka didn’t bother with pleasantries. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Burning, my ears were.” 

“Then go soak your head.” Luke paused in his flat disbelief to have a hearty chuckle.

“Hmm, darkness you covet, my young friend.” 

“I’m not coveting it.” She growled, “It’s a part of me just like the light is. I happen to have gone through a whole lot of trauma,” Her glare turned flinty. “And I did live one on a Sith planet for a few years.”

“hmmm.” Yoda hopped up to perch on Luke’s chair. Luke sighed and edged away. “Suffered you have, lost much you did.”

“I lost everything I ever had because of you.” Ahsoka’s temper flared and the Jedi realized just why she and Leia were so well paired together. “You abandoned me when I needed help the most. You exiled me, I was homeless and alone for years because of you. Don’t come here and condemn me for existing this way now.”

Luke shrank into his seat and closed his eyes. He wasn’t fully aware of what had happened to Ahsoka Tano. He’d have to ask Tang for details. 

“Condemn you I do not wish to do.” Yoda’s ears pricked up. “Speak to you I did of your training.” 

“No.” Yoda blinked in real surprise. “I was talking to Luke. Not you. Go away.” 

“Young Tano.” 

“No.” She bared her teeth. “Get out.” 

Yoda wobbled on his perch. “Very well.” He croaked and hopped down. “Respect this boundary, I will.” Luke wondered why Yoda sounded like he was doing them a favor. “Good day.” 

Ahsoka didn’t reply and only when he left did she turn back to Luke. “Did your father ever tell you about that mission he had on Florrum?”

“Errr, he hasn’t told me much of anything about being a Jedi. I just know he was.” Luke rubbed his nose. 

“So he didn’t tell you about the bootleg beefcake calendars of him?” Luke choked on his cough. “Or that one time he was asked to be a Royal Companion?” Wheezing, Luke shook his head. 

“I will tell you ever embarrassing story about your father if you tell me about yourself.” Ahsoka offered. 

“I thought you wanted.”

“You feel like he used to.” Ahsoka told him, “Warm, comfortable. I just…I want to be near that again. So please, talk.” 

“I, sure.” Luke swallowed. For the next few hours he talked. He told Ahsoka about the heat on Tatooine. About his Aunt’s voice and his Uncle’s hands, how they cared so much for him. He told her about flying in Beggar’s Canyon, fighting with scum and slavers, using his ship to smuggle water from the Hutts. How the market used to bustle, how the suns looked when they set. How the music sounded, how to repair vaporators, how he would work with his uncle on the old treadmill droid during sandstorms. Luke talked himself hoarse, trying to help soothe whatever trouble thought Ahsoka was grappling with. He hoped he was helping. Sometime in the middle of the second hour Ahsoka began to blink heavy tears out of her eyes. 

When his voice was rough and raw she finally looked back at him. Her eyes were puffy and red and tear tracks had marked a steady route down her cheeks. Luke cursed himself before she smiled. 

“You look so much like him, you know?” He shook his head. “Except you got your mother’s height.” Ahsoka whispered. She smiled again and reached across the empty space between them to pat him hair. “Soft hair. I love humans and their hair. It’s so soft.”

“Then you must really like Leia’s.” His voice hurt, his throat hurt but it was worth it to see Ahsoka looking to much happier. 

“Yes.” Abruptly she stood and walked out. Luke blinked at her retreating form and shrugged. He hoped he had helped. 

#$#4

Colonel Fel returned to the quarters of his squadron to find six of them huddled in front of the door leading to what used to be Doora’s room. They were whispering.

“What is going on here?” He demanded and the entire group snapped to attention, saluting. The resulting tangle of limbs and sudden motion knocked the entire group to the floor. “Pilots.” He sighed, rubbing his nose. “What are you doing?”

“Ve are missing Doora.” Four said from the bottom of the pile. “Is she alright?”

Fel acutely felt the weight to the expectant gazes on him and winced. “I believe she and Lord Vader were arguing when I left.” An expectant hush fell over the room. “I. Don’t be ridiculous, pilots!” He snapped suddenly, “And expect that Lord Vader would ever harm the girl. She is a pilot, she is his daughter.” 

“By adoption,” Five pointed out, “That doesn’t mean they like each other. You’ve heard her talk. She doesn’t like him. What if…you know he doesn’t tolerate people talking back to him.”

“I have every confidence in Lord Vader.” Fel lied. 

“Did she have her datapad?” Someone asked. He shook his head. “Then someone will have to take it to her!” 

Colonel Fel nodded. The padd could easily be messengered back to the newly minted princess but everyone would want to make sure with their own eyes that Doora was not, in fact, in trouble. “I will take it.” There was a collective groan but no one argued. Four produced the needed datapad and Fel proceeded back to the private quarters. After a brief argument with a protocol droid who insisted that the Princess was not to be disturbed. When Fel finally overrode the thing and was escorted to the living room where he was met with a hallow eyed Doora. 

Fearing the worst, he crossed the room and snatched her into a hug before he knew what he was doing. “Are you alright?” He asked. She blinked and then shrugged. 

“I’m okay, I guess.” She said, pulling away. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“I must confess I was concerned.” The ace pilot shook his shoulders and then straightened up to military exactness. His decorum now proper. “I have come to return your datapad.”

“Oh,” She stared at the proffered technology and then back at him. “Okay. Thanks. Um, how are you?” Soontir stared. “I’ve kinda had a chance to decompress. Still don’t know what’s going on but uh…I think I’m doing alright.” 

“Where is your father?” 

“Errr, left right after you did.” Fel gave a sigh of relief that garnered a confused look. “Um, I don’t really know what I’m doing but…uh.”

“Perhaps you would like some tea.” Sootir offered, “That might help.”

“Tea, yeah. Tea would be great. I know how to make some. I just don’t have a kitchen up here so I.”

“I will have some brought up.” Fel promised and Doora shot him a look of such gratitude that he felt sure of his mission despite the lateness of the evening. “What would you like?”

“I don’t actually know the names or anything.” Her hands fluttered around. First touching her hair, then her elbows and then her thigh as she wiped her palms on them. “I just made it. I just.”

“Princess.” Her pupils were blown wide and Soontir winced as she flinched. “Doora, maybe you should sit down.”

“That’s right. A good idea. Great idea.” Doora fiddled with the white scarf around her neck as she plopped onto the sofa and Fel sent a few messages to the kitchens for tea to be sent up. He took the opposite chair. “

“Doora, are you feeling alright?” 

Doora did not draw her gaze away from the distant stars. “Nope.” She croaked. “Not really.”

“Would you like to tell me about it?” 

“Not really.” 

“Alright.” Fel leaned back in his chair and watched the stars in silence as well until the droid came with the tea and then left. Doora prepared her own cup and stole the entire bowl of cookies before absently handing one off to him. 

“I don’t know how to be a princess.” She said quietly, “I don’t know how to do anything other than fly.”

“You can learn.” Soontir said gently and was horrified a moment later when Doora burst into tears. He dove just in time to catch most of the cookies and the tea cup but lost two cookies and the tea to the carpet. “Doora!” She had never cried. Doora got angry, she seethed, she hated, she glared, she sulked and whined and complained but Doora never cried. Except here she was, curled in on herself and sobbing into her knees in what looked like oversized men’s clothing. 

Frantic, he set the cup and bowl to the side and reached over to gently pat Doora’s shoulder. “There, there,” He offered awkwardly. “It’s not so bad. They are lovely rooms, very tasteful and comfortable.” The crying did not abate. He shrugged and continued patting her shoulders and trying to mutter something soothing. Never in a million years would he have considered this sort of behavior with any of his pilots. Except that Doora only a teenager, a child really. Too old and too young at the same time. Eventually she calmed down enough to look up and accept a new cup of tea. “You know,” he joked weakly. “My wife would be far better suited to emotional breakdown. I think being an actress does that to someone.” 

“An actress.” She hiccupped into her tea and then wiped away snot with her shirt sleeve. Soontir winced with disgust and passed her his handkerchief. “You’re married?”

“Certainly you don’t think I wear this as a fashion statement?” He flashed his wedding band. It was a rare, bright gold that was more gaudy and unnecessary. Wnyssa had chosen it so no one would miss it and that every woman he encountered on his trip would know he was married. His wife’s possessive tendencies did delight him sometimes. 

“Uh, you just never mentioned anything about yourself.”

“Hmm. I understand the need for stress relief and sometimes a cry does the job.” He said, “At least, that’s what Wnyssa told me. Do you feel better?” Doora moped her still leaking eyes with the kerchief and shrugged. A second later she slugged back the entire cup of tea in a long swallow and held it out for some more. Duly impressed he poured her another cup. 

“We used to do this.” She told him dolefully, staring at the ornate, egg-shell thing cup in her hand. 

“We?” 

“A buddy of mine. We’d sneak out of bed and go get tea. Only got caught once but I think they knew about the rest of the times too. We’d drink tea and talk about stuff and then it was so much easier to go to sleep after that.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Sometimes,” She sniffled, “He was so hopeful and caring and optimistic.”

“Disgusting.” Fel pronounced and took a personal pleasure in the startled laugh his dramatic dismissal had gotten him. 

“That’s what I said. He so dopey sometimes but he was a great pilot.” She laughed a bit, “Boy did that get us in trouble.” 

“Trouble? You? Goodness,” Soontir felt better about his abysmal lack of comforting skills when she almost smiled. 

“Yeah, trouble. I can fix things and he could fly them and geez, you’da thought we’d brought the whole rebellion on our heads the way they acted afterwards.”

“I can’t imagine what you could have done.”

“We borrowed a ship.” She jerked a thumb back toward the door. “One of his.” Soontir nearly choked on his tea. “We fixed it too. One of the old ones. That was part of the problem.” Fel covered his mouth as Doora told him about the fine mess of chaos she’d created by fixing an antique and convincing her friend to fly it. 

Their conversation carried on late into the morning until Fel was nearly asleep and Doora was already passed out on the couch. He draped a spare blanket over her and made his sleepy way back to the pilots quarters with a favorable report.


	3. Tipping Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Palpatine is suspicious but misled.

When the morning cycle was beginning and the alarms attached to his chamber went off, Vader stood and redonned his armor. There was plenty of stuff to get done today. In the private quarters initially intended for Luke he found Doora slumped over the dining room table. A heavy mug of caf was in one hand and a datapad was in the other. 

“Cadet!” He barked. She jerked away and nearly fell out of her seat. 

“What? What? I’m up!” Her dark eyes blearily focused on him. “Hey! What do you want?” She yawned and slurped at her caf. She made a face and set it aside. 

“Why are you in here?”

“I’m awake, didn’t get much sleep. Little stressful, um,” her brain seemed to be waking up slowly. “What are you doing here?”

“I will be speaking to you.” Vader felt the familiar burn of anger at seeing the unwanted imposter taking Luke’s seat. He focused on the datapad in her hand. “What are you reading?”

“Err, nothing. None of your business.” She hastily moved it out of his line of sight but he seized it with the Force and examined the book pulled up. ‘Proper Etiquette of Core World Royalty.” Vader blinked. 

“I have no issue with you reading this. Why attempt to conceal it?”

“Bah! Doesn’t matter, give it back.” She leaned on the table, reaching for her datapad.

“Why?” He stressed the word and Doora blanched. 

“Colonel Fel gave it to me. I figured, all things considered, I should probably…look some stuff up. Cause, I’m supposed to be a princess now…I guess.”

“You are correct, you will be the center of much attention. Your behavior must be, at least, passable.”

“Passable?”

“If you would attempt to completely change your personality and behavior it would only end in total disaster. It is best to show the galaxy you are trying to do your best.”

“Hmm.” Doora glowered and crossed her arms. 

“You will be present in Court but only just. Do not attempt to make friends or enemies. It will bode poorly for you. The Emperor also wishes to meet you but only after I have deemed it appropriate. Do not believe anything he says. Anything he speaks or says is a lie, a half-truth, or said to mislead you. Do not listen to anything he says.” 

“You said that twice.” 

“It is vitally important you remember this. He has been the downfall of many.” 

Sensing the intensity, Doora nodded. “Alright, but still. I don’t…I thought this was a thing that I had to fly. You know, like a working prison sentence. Why give me…all this?” 

“Necessity, there has been a change in plans.”

“I get that adopting makes you look good but…having a princess? Don’t…it just seems a little odd.” 

“Do not think too much on it.” If it were to go well then Luke would be taking her place as he had every right to. “The quartermaster will be here to fit you with proper clothes. No more grays. Also, it is absolutely vital, if you must be insolent and uncooperative, then do it out of sight of my officers, my troopers, my subordinates, and any holo cameras.”

“So…basically everyone?” She raised an eyebrow, “I’m pretty sure that’s cheating.”

“It may be.” It did make him feel better though. “Your first public appearance won’t be for a while yet. There are many things that I am still attending to.” 

“Right.” Doora heroically bit back on her sarcasm. “Ok. Then…what do I do while I wait. You won’t let me fly or do anything! I gotta do something!” 

“You will study. I have duties to attend to. “ With a cursory wave he left Doora sulking. 

#$#$

The inhabitants of the Ghost were all gathered around the holo table. Kanan was sucking down caf, Hera was yawning and dimly surveying her datapd. Ezra was bouncing an excited Dawn on his lap. Sabine was waving a few of her more decorated pieces of armor around in front of the toddler and Zeb was staring unhappily at a flimsi picture of Kallus. 

“How long until the call comes through?” Kanan asked. “I want to go back to bed.”

“Not long now, love. The Architect is probably,” The holo unit lit up with the familiar symbol of the Architect. A small square with the outline of a tree on each side. 

“Specters.” The distorted voice came through clearly. Dawn went quiet and Ezra sat up straighter. “Your next mission is not an easy one. Thank you for destroying the laboratory on the Wookie homeworld, your efforts were much appreciated. Your next mission will not be so easy. As you know the outer rim is under the control of the Hutts and the two Imperial defectors. The Outer Rim has a different intended fate. You and the phoenix squadron are tasked with removing the Imperial authority as well as the Hutts. You will not be alone. There are several agents, ISB, tasked to help you. They will reply to your code with the phrase, “The suns have gone dark.” I will not tell you how to dismantle these criminals, this is for you to work out. It is vital you ensure that any information of your destruction of these criminals is that you are working with anyone outside the rebellion. The death of Jabba the Hutt has destabilized the hutt clans. Work from there.” The table went dead and the Specters were left in astonished silence. 

“Destroy the Hutts! Destroy the Imp defectors! Is he crazy?” Zeb demanded, shouting. “It’s hard enough running a proper rebellion! How? How are we going to destroy them?”

 

“We’ll have to think of a plan. A good plan. A working one.” Kanan said, easily leaning over to pick up his daughter and cooing at her. “It shouldn’t be too hard. If we’re getting contacts in the outer rim then…well. Hera and I will go over the information in the packet he just sent us and work through a proper plan.”

“As someone who has pretended to be Jabba the Hutt on multiple occasions,” Ezra said, “can we incorporate that into the plan?”

“We’ll see,” Hera promised. He beamed and followed Sabine from the room. Zeb left with a grumble and Chopper only left when the two gave him a stern glare. 

#$#$

Admiral Piett watched the lights of the bridge wink and flare under the ministrations of the crew. It was quiet this early in the ship cycle, people were still waking up. 

Piett hadn’t really been to sleep. He couldn’t sleep. His commander was planning treason. His commander was instigating long-aged coup. His commander was operating under the instruction and advice of a different entity. An entity so mysterious even Vader wouldn’t discuss it with them. 

He shifted from foot to foot and watched the stars become starlines. 

They were headed to Corellia to smooth over the sudden implosion caused by the political infighting between the politicians, the corporations, and the people. It was an ugly mess that Vader was going to wade into the enthusiasm of a man walking to his death. It was the first time Piett had seen him take an interest in anything outside of Navy business. 

It was the first time anyone had seen Vader taken an interest in anything besides navy business. 

That was the point. 

The Architect was a political and military genius. What little he understood of the plan, what little he was allowed to know; he had to be an absolute genius. When his comm chimed and he found a message from Vader ordering him to meet in the adjoining conference room. There he found Veers and Vader. The Sith produced a small recording device disruptor and set it on the table. 

“We have only a few minutes. Have you both reviewed your assignments?”

“Yes, milord.” The two chorused and Veers swallowed nervously.

“Milord, I do not…I do not understand how my…duties will aid in this plan. It seems…far-fetched.” Piett winced. Thankfully, Vader did not seem insulted. He merely hooked his thumbs into his belt and levelled a stare at the general. 

“It will be clear in due time, General Veers. As is needed, the truth will be revealed.”

“The Architect must either be crazy or…inherently reckless but his plans show genius.” Piett muttered. The Sith turned to him and seemed to consider the slight officer.

“Indeed. Admiral, what is our ETA to Corellia?”

“Three days, milord.”

“Very well. That is all, dismissed.” Veers and Piett saluted and left. Neither of them spoke and they separated just before the bridge. They did exchange meaningful glanced, full of concern and worry. 

#$#$

Grand Admiral Thrawn admired the data pad screen in front of him, tracing the lines of the image on it. It was another political cartoon. Another one to surface in the last few days. Another one to press home an idea that had been floating about the galaxy but never truly verbalized. 

It was an interesting image to be sure. Vader, a cartoon version of him where his mask mimicked normal facial expressions. From the lines, the clear hesitation that showed, the artists clearly had been uncomfortable doing the piece. It could mean that he artist knew Vader to some degree. Of course, it could also mean that the personal had an all-consuming fear of the Sith. No one had an all-consuming fear of anyone unless they were somewhat acquainted. Or were very anxious. Thrawn would put money on the fact that this artist both respected and feared Vader and were near the man on a regular basis. It could be a man on the Executor. It wasn’t Admiral Piett. The man had no artistic ability to speak of. General Veers’ drawings were blocky and with thick lines. 

Thrawn tapped his finger to his lips, thinking. 

What was the plot? Because there had to be one brewing. No one went through the effort of drawing Lord Vader as an overworked and underappreciated housewife and Emperor Palpatine as a deadbeat husband; without proper motivation. 

Something further caught his attention. Princess Doora was in the cartoon, drawn as a fussing toddler. What caught his attention was not the implication that she represented the young humans of this generation. Rather, it was the detail to her face. 

Thrawn only knew what she looked like from the spies he had placed aboard the Executor. No holos of the Princess had been released yet, the general public had no idea knew what she looked like. Who was close enough to Vader to get access to his daughter? Why did they use the princess in the first place? Was Vader no longer attached to his own son. 

Three years of chasing Luke Skywalker as frantically as any dedicated parent might ended in this? The rebel was passed over for what? For a two-bit smuggler, a petty thief? How was this even possible. Vader was a man in firm belief in destiny. In rightful heirship. He was a person of legends. The same sort of person Luke Skywalker was. 

Such a legend. A person from the old myths of any species. 

The only reason Vader would have done this was for a plot, a coup. For something but this was not normal. 

“Sir?” 

“Ah, Captain. Come, tell me what you think of this.” The man, silver-haired, flint-eyed and stern-faced, took the page and grimaced visibly at the image. 

“It is…it certainly invokes a...I…perhaps it is a little too grotesque. Though, it does get the message across. I believe it is highly inappropriate.”

“The message is not intended for the likes of us, Captain. It is meant for the foolish, muddling humans, the fools whose only thought is their next meal. It is not meant for those who have dedicated their lives to a higher purpose.” He didn’t turn around and see Palleons curiously minimized expression of disbelief and vague distaste. “The point that the artists is trying to make is that Vader is the only person in the Imperial government aiding the citizens of the Empire. Perhaps a true statement, if crudely drawn. I wonder at the meaning of its existence.” 

“Meaning, sir?”

“I believe Lord Vader may be attempting to execute a coup. A curious thought. A curious month it has been.” 

“Yes, sir.” The human shifted uneasily. “We do have our next assignment from the Core, Admiral.” 

“And?” 

“We are being assigned border defense. If the defectors should attempt to use Hutt space as a jumping off point of invasion we have been ordered to…stop them.” 

“Hmm.” Thrawn pulled up the orders on his datapad, frowning. “Return to the bridge, Captain. Keep this to yourself.”

“Yes, sir. When can we be expecting you?”

“An hour.” The Chiss waved and Palleon retreated from the gloomy office. He was replaced seconds later by a tiny woman in a nurses uniform. “You’re early, Agent.” 

“Yes, sir.” She blinked at him. “What do you need me to investigate?” 

“This phenomenon of support of Lord Vader actions is new and…concerning. It is stemming from the deep net.”

“The HoloNews network on Imperial Center is also displaying signs of support of Vader’s plans. It comes from the main studio.” 

“Find the seed of this support and pull it up by the roots.” Thrawn ordered. “Our plans will be derailed if Lord Vader is allowed the support he is courting.” The agent bowed quietly and left. 

#$#$#$

Emperor Palpatine was not amused. His yellow eyes were focused on the various screens before. One displaying Lord Vader arrival to Corellia. He was walking, not with a horde of troopers, but with dozen or so diplomats. Holo cameras followed at an uncomfortable distance. The civilians watching the proceeding looked torn between applauding his arrival or running screaming in terror. His staff was around him too, passing him padds, flimsi’s to sign, or information packets. None of them seem too frightened to think either.

The second was a short holo of Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Master Yoda, and more alarmingly, Vader’s daughter; Ahsoka Tano. The four of them were standing off of each other, sparring in a violent, no hold barred sort of fight the Jedi order decried on a regular basis. 

The third was of the image of box with an unfamiliar image on the side. 

Fourth was a grainy holo pic of a short girl with brown hair. A white scarf was tied around her neck. 

These images and videos were all connected. All of them interwoven in the force by a thread of fate so thin it might not have existed in a parallel universe. What was connecting them? Who was connecting them? How could such distant figures end up being connected in the first place? 

There was a plot against him, no doubt. Someone was moving against his throne but…it was not wholly Vader. His disappointment of an apprentice had shown some fantastic new enthusiasm for his tasks as the Heir Apparent. Anyone without the Force might have suspected that Vader was the only threat against him. That Vader had engineered every recent trouble against him. With the Force he knew that this was no so. 

Someone else. A distant, unknown threat was lurking in the mysteries of the Force. Someone not his apprentice was standing to take the opposite of the playing field. 

He relished the idea of this new challenger. It had been so long since he’d had a decent one. Palpatine was much less concerned with the idea that they might win against him. 

He would win. He always had. 

Palpatine leaned back onto his throne and chuckled.

#$#$ 

Tang paced the length of the holo com unit. The scene of Vader speaking with dozens of Corellian was nearly enough to make her feel slightly ill. The reports of Doora were scattered across the table. A few messages from Vader too. A holo of Luke and Leia sparring in a wooded clearing. Ahsoka Tano staring with sightless, time-frozen eyes at the former High General. A set of reports from Jixton, Gohan, and the ‘dead’ Dr. Aphra. 

It had begun. The plan, the coup, the scheme. All of it beginning. So much work to be jammed into two and half months. 

She paused and stood behind a clone operating the table. Her long ago scarred hands wrapped around the chair’s back, clawing at the wood with the motions of the truly nervous. Her eyes were focused on the blue image even as her breath came out short and even. 

“Nervous, sir?” Asked the man and she shot the clone a grin. 

“Have you ever born witness to such beauty? To such genius? I am conquering the galaxy in three months. I am bringng the Emperor low in less time than it takes for him to negotiate a trade deal. The sheer magnitude of this….is staggering, unbelievable. This is the beginning of his end, clone. I will drown the stars in Imperial blood.” Amber eyes blazed, expression intense and dangerous. “They. Will. Burn.”


	4. Han Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han is needed elsewhere. The rebels discuss politics.

Luke Skywalker dodged a spectacular kick to the face, courtesy of Ahsoka, and a slicing golden lightsaber from Leia just in time to run head first into the dirt. He didn’t move fast enough to avoid having a boot shoved against his back and two lightsabers burning next to his ears.

“That’s three against two, Luke.” Leia taunted, letting him roll into a sitting position. Ahsoka laughed form the distance. “How do you feel?”

“Like you fight dirty, Leia.” Luke stood up and brushed down his training clothes. His next few words were cut off by an indignant shriek of Han. “What the?” He glanced to the girls and then at the distant hanger. “Want to check it out?” 

Ahsoka nodded but Leia already gone. Making impossible leaps across the rocky clearings and trees. Luke followed just as quickly, catching up with her just as she skidded to a halt in front of Boba Fett. 

“What are you doing here, bounty hunter?” She spat, her saber just inches under his helmet. Luke felt the force tremble and he pulled back and Leia’s arm. 

“Leia,” he glanced to Han, “let him explain before you threaten him.” Han was fuming, holding a wrench at the ready. 

Fett relaxed visibly as the saber dipped away from his neck. “I’m here to pick up Solo,” he explained. “I was sent.”

“By the captain?” Luke asked and Fett nodded. 

“The who?” Han demanded, “I’m not going anywhere. Apparently, I’m some royal consort and now I’m some laudry some bounty hunting scum gets to drag to the cleaners? What the kriff farm boy?” 

“What does she want with him?” Luke asked, letting Leia take over calming her fuming paramour. Ahsoka hovered in the background. 

“Talk to him, didn’t tell me. I was to bring him to her.” 

“Who is her?” 

“Leia.” Luke glanced to the princess and she sighed. 

“If she needs him its probably for something important.”

“I’m not going with him.” Han snarled, “Chewie, back me up here.”

[I know this woman, Han.] Chewbacca set an enormous paw on his head. [You should go.]

“Why?” Han glared at the assembled Jedi and then at the bounty hunter. “Why?”

[Han], Chewbacca waved a paw and they moved a respectful few steps away from them. The enormous wookie held Han’s shoulder and continued. [I know you don’t trust them. The rebels or the bounty hunter and I know you don’t trust the Empire.]

“Damn straight.” Han crossed his arms. 

[Do you remember what you told me when you saved my life?]

“I was drunk, course I don’t remember.”

[You told me that you couldn’t keep standing beside and watching all of that pain.]

 

“Never listen to me drunk, Chewie.” Han snorted and yelped when the paw on his shoulder tightened and he was dragged back against the wookie. “Hey! Buddy! Relax!” 

[Someone else has decided this too, Han. It is your time to go and help.]

“Chewie!”

[I am sure Fett will be polite as needed.] Chewbacca’s grip turned threatening and Han grumbled. 

“Fine, I’ll go but I don’t have to like it.” 

[Thank you.] Chewbacca rubbed his paw on Han’s head, ruffling the short brown hair and making the smuggler mumble out a few token protests. 

Luke and Leia were pointedly looking toward the ceiling, Ahsoka was smirking, and Fett looked bored when Han finally turned around. 

“Fine! I’m going! But this person had better be ready for all this smooth.” He gestured to himself and Luke stifled a chuckle as Leia gave her consort a grin. 

“Of course, she won’t be.” Leia said, patting his shoulder. “No way.” 

“You’ll surprise her right away.” Luke agreed. 

“I’m leaving,” Ahsoka shook her head and wandered off, leaving the others to deal with Boba Fett. 

“Are we leaving now or what?” Boba demanded, “I don’t have all month.” 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming. But I’m not sleeping in the cargo hold. I get a real cabin this time.” Fett’s iconic helmet dipped down and Han Solo stomped furiously up the ramp of Slave I. “Well, you coming or what?” 

#@@

“Lord Vader’s appearance on Corellia is concerning for a number of reasons.” Mothma pointed to the image in the middle of the crowded room. Vader, several Imperial officers, and an unfamiliar teenager were standing in a circle. “He appears to be dedicated to the conservation of the Empire. His efforts in recent weeks have been to contain unfavorable events, and the potential splintering of his government.” 

“Betrayal,” Yoda said quietly, “the Sith operate on.” 

“Yes,” Mothma nodded regally to him, “as the Sith apprentice, he is destined to betray and murder the Emperor. His master. He activities show that he may be establishing that he is prepared to rise to the throne himself.” Of the assembled rebels, all of them muttered and whispered. 

“What of recent events do you think Vader might have manipulated?” Madine asked. “He adopted the smuggler for a reason. She’s a show, a distraction, or a gussy up act. The heist, the economic collapse that no one saw coming? How likely is it that Vader orchestrated that?”

“That economic crisis was a disaster almost twenty years in the making.” The room paused and turned to look at Princess Leia. She wore her Alderann whites with grave dignity and her lightsaber with purpose. Her dark eyes speared the other’s rebels. “Suggesting that Lord Vader created that mess is taking common sense and tossing it out. We are beings of thought and sense. I agree, Lord Vader may be attempting to use the recent economic collapse to gather support among the public.” 

“The recent political cartoons, the talks given on the holo news.” Madine nodded, “they are curiously Vader-centric. One would think that there are agents embedded to tilt the approval towards him.” 

“None of Lord Vader’s efforts though, are short term,” someone added. “He seems to be working, building a future Empire for himself. That’s what’s worrying.”

“Agreed.” Mothma turned toward Princess Leia, “Are you permitted to reveal the identity of our benefactor?”

“Not yet,” Leia thought of Tang. Of the seemingly endless ability to work eight problems at once. Of all of her work and whatever schemes that the woman was working with. “I believe our focus should be the Imperial defectors on the Outer Rim. They don’t have the protection of the Emperor. If we destroy them, a significant number would be gone. Plus, the control on the Outer Rim would fall to us.” 

“That would be useful,” Mothma agreed, “but the death of the Hutts has significantly hampered any efforts we could make.” Luke blinked a bit and then grinned, not bothering to hide his smugness. “The entire outer rim has become unstable.” 

 

“Oh dear,” he said and examined his nails. “What a terrible happening.” Leia frowned at him and the other rebels looked confused. Luke glanced around to grin at Ahsoka. “What about laying low? Hiding until the storm begins to blow over. Vader is stuck working to clear up the mess that the Black Sun made, he won’t be happy if we start more of a mess.” 

“Since when have we been concerned over who Lord Vader is pleased with, let alone us?” 

“Yes, but I think acting right now would be reckless and I fear it would invite his unfettered wrath on us.” Leia pointed out, “he is not a patient man. Any distractions from his attempt to stabilize that galaxy might be worse than before the crisis began.”

Luke glanced to Leia just as the small being narrowed his gaze at Leia. He frowned. The Force was swirling, it was aching with something, a secret. A bright secret that was so close and yet…shrouded form him. Luke could feel it but he couldn’t see it. 

Why was it missing? Why couldn’t he see it?” 

#$#$#

Tang sipped at the shockingly pink drink and surveyed Dr. Aphra at the same time. The woman was just as reckless and foolish as before, with a smile that would cut through class four armor. Here, she was less confidence than usual. 

It could have something to do with the fact that Jix was holding the woman at blaster point and her droids were smoking husks. 

“Aphra,” she said politly, taking another sip. The woman narrowed her eyes. 

“I don’t know your name.” 

“You don’t need to. I have a proposal for you, one with a staggeringly sized paycheck and absolution from your favorite employer.” 

“Hmmm?” Aphra glance between Jix and Tang. “You’ve got my attention but I’m not garunteed to take the job.” 

“It involves your specialty, archologies, digging, and research.” Tang opened a file and pulled out a flimsi image of an antique weapon. “I need one of these and the corresponding tools to use it.” 

Aphra whistled and leaned over to pick up the file. “Off the top of my head I know about eight of these in existence, most of them in very nice collections. You want something this rare, it’ll be a hell of a find.” 

“I need one, preferably two but one will work in a pinch.” 

“You need these to operate?” Aphra asked, her eyes shifting from the filmsi to former separatist. “You want to use them?” 

“I need to be able to use them. Find me these and your pay rate will be…phenomenal and I will grant you an audience with Lord Vader you are guaranteed to walk away from.” 

“So you’re…the reason I never had a chance?” Aphra asked, her face titling into an exaggerated pout. She leaned back against a smirking Jix. “Oh! I was the other woman!” 

“I...” Tang’s exhaustion was clear as day and she just sighed. “Sure, yes. One of the reasons why. Also, his wife is dead. Very dead. A wife he loved very much.” 

“You look fine.” 

“I’m not his wife.” Aphra peered at her with exaggerated annoyance. 

“I bet you could be.”

“I don’t want to be.” Tang answered, “and you’re getting off topic. Find these for me and you’ll be able to live our your days in relative peace and comfort before I come and kill you later for breaking the law.”

“Right…” Aphra held the flimsi and shrugged, “so you when do come for me…” 

“Get out.” Tang ordered, not at all interested in hearing what the woman would say next. “And keep your paws off Luke Skywalker.” 

“Alright, alright.” Aphra winked at her as she was dragged out. “See you in a month!” 

“Miserable wench.” Tang muttered, draining her glass. She glanced at Rain, “where is Han Solo?” 

“Two days out ma’am.” 

“Excellent. 

#$#$#$#$

Doora glance between Soontir Fel and the quartermaster who was taking down her seize and her measurements. The colonel seemed calm enough, his eye focused on his datapad. The tailor was writing down her numbers. Neither of them displayed any of the tenseness that Doora was feeling from both of them.

“What are your favorite colors?” the quarter master finally asked as he shifted from measuring her arm to her leg. “Do you have any preferred styles?” 

“Err.” 

“Purple and yellow, the go well with her skin tone. Along with deep blues,” Fel added, still not looking up. She wasn’t really sure why he was here but she wasn’t upset about it. 

“Styles that can fit blasters and vicroblades.” Doora told the quartermaster, thinking of how many messes she could get into. “And snacks.” 

“Snacks?” Fel looked up finally and Doroa nodded. 

“Don’t want the blood sugar to get too low.” She told him seriously and he ducked his head to hide a grin. 

“Just don’t crumbs everywhere.” 

“I did that once and you made me clean-press that thing on my own.” 

“These will be much nice clothes than your flight suit,” Fel said, “please do not get crumbs in them.” 

“One time.” Doora rolled her eyes, “one time.”

“One time is all I need, Ca…Princess.” Coloneol Fel watched her carefully and looked down at the bundle of fabrics that were parading into the room. Yellows, purples, and blues. A few heavy greens and a few pink. “Ah, quartermaster.” 

“Sir?”

“Her day to day outfits should not be nearly as elaborate as recent high fashion demands. Doora would not be able to move.” 

“He’s right.” She nodded, still not moving from the stool. It was the second time she was getting fitted for new clothes. At least the clone had been a lot more personable. But Fel reminded her of Tang so it wasn’t so bad. 

“Oh, lots of pockets! I need pockets.” She almost smiled for the first time in two days as the pilot sighed deeply. 

“High fashion is redicuous and impractical. Only the truly wealthy could afford it.” 

“Sir,” the tailor gestured to the former cadet, moving his eyebrows emphatically. “Sir.” 

“Yes, yes, but I am sure the Princess does not want high fashion. Or, what they call high fashion these days.”

“Very true.” 

“I know a few designs that would fit though,” he pulled up a series of images on his datapad, “here. Think this. A few outfits for her white scarf.” 

“What’s wrong with my scarf?” Doora demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at the men. The lower ranking officers who were carting around the clothes and bolts of fabric watched the scene with interest. 

“There is nothing wrong with it,” Fel told her honestly. “It is simply obvious that you favor it.” 

“It’s a nice scarf.” 

“It is.” The man gave her a quick smile, “which is why I mentioned it.” 

“Well,” she shifted her shoulders, “yeah, the scarf. I like it.” The tailor and the colonel exchanged a glance.

“Of course, we can make it a staple in your wardrobe. We may even start a new craze. A new fashion.” 

“You fit navy uniforms all day. Why are you so interested in some silly clothes for a princess?” Doora asked, as the measuring tape went around her waist. 

“I used to be a fashion designer until my conscription notice came through.” The man replied, looking with trepidation at the other officers, “I am very happy to be working with fashion again. I am honored to design your wardrobe.” Doora shrugged and rolled her eyes. 

“Fine.”

#$#$#$

Vader stared gloomily out the viewport of his office, watching the passing starlines. 

“Sir?” Tang’s voice echoed through the line and he turned back to the woman. She wasn’t looking at him either, her eyes were directed downward, probably at some report or another. 

“Captain,” he replied wearily, “Corellia worked well. The neogtiations are complete. I have been sent the revised copies of the law which only needs signed into existence.” 

“Yes, I saw the reports. Well done, I’m sure the Corellians were charmed.” 

“Hmm,” Vader didn’t reply. Corellians were an odd breed and very few of them made decent Imperial officers. They were the gunslingers, the smugglers, the pirates. Many of them echoed with latent force sensitivity and the best Corellians burned hot and fast. 

“The discussion in the rebels today was over what they should be doing while you go negotiate across the galaxy. We’re going to have to plant the idea that they ought to be doing nothing but not from your children. I think the council is holding them at arms length.”

“Why?”

“I couldn’t say for sure, the suspicion of Skywalker’s disappearance and Leia’s inability to find even an atom of chill. All of this is very serious for them. Ahsoka Tano is still strong in the rebellion, her former position as Fulcrum has made her valuable but a few years on the sith planet haven’t helped. They are suspicious of them.” Tang shook her head, “of all the time for them to finally get suspicious of the Jedi.” 

“Luke and Leia are not Jedi.” 

 

“No, that’s the problem. But I am sure they will handle it. The specters are about to being their work on the outer rim.” 

“And?” 

“And the plan should be fine.” 

“Do you know what it is?”

“Not quiet but they will contact me when they’ve begun. Also, the rebels won’t begin working in the outer rim because there aren’t any governments to work with.” 

“Typical,” he snorted and Tang shrugged. 

“They are the old guard, but they will soon see. I would stay on longer but I have a meeting with some very important parties in an hour that I need to get ready for. But, how is Doora?”

“She seems well. I have allowed Colonel Fel to keep an eye on her while we are in hyperspace.”

“Oh?” 

“He has…become attached. I believe.” 

“Oh good, someone has to be her father.” 

“Tang.”

“I haven’t seen an iota of affection for your daughter from you at all, sir. Adopted or not you could at least go through the effort of making her more at ease with your company. She is going to be with you on camera a whole lot. Ease is impossible to fake. If she can at least tolerate your company it’ll sell your story better.” 

“Indeed,” Vader sighed at the thought. 

“Signing off.” Was all the warning that Tang gave him before the call was disconnected and he was left in relative silence. 

#$#$#

Han Solo was pretty familiar with intimidation tactics of powerful people. Anyone who could send Boba Fett on a milk run wasn’t someone to mess with. 

Someone who owned an enormous castle on an abandoned planet that apparently suffered acid rain storms wasn’t someone he wanted to piss off. 

“They’ve sure got fancy digs.” He remarked, watching part of a roof open up to allow Slave I down. “Real fancy digs.” Fett didn’t respond. 

Whoever had summoned him, the shadowy figure that took control of the rebellion, hadn’t bothered with manners. Fett had to escort him through the winding halls and up turbolifts to find them. He caught sight of the mystery figure in a new office. Their form was outlined by heavy windows crossed in bars. A lean shadow fell across a clustered desk, and they stood straight yet relaxed. 

In the respectful silence that prevaded the room, Solo finally coughed. 

“So you’re the Architect?” He looked from Fett to the stranger.

“I am.” A woman’s voice, deeper than he might have expected with a rasping edge that spoke of previous damage to it. “Han Solo, normally I would not bother with the likes of you. A holdover from my previous experience with scum and smugglers…yet.”

“Sure making a nice introduction.” He sniped and wheeled back when the Architect turned. She was lean, dark skin and eyes, with a crisp uniform. Her entire form spoke ‘dangerous’. “What do you need from me then?” 

“An introduction to an old friend of yours,” dark eyes sparked with something. Insanity? Madness? Death? Han wasn’t sure but he found himself leaning back against Fett as a precaution. “Maz Katana.”


	5. Continued On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han is not easily intimidated. Thrawn gets a report.

“Why do you want to talk to Maz?” Han demanded. He felt Fett’s armor dig into his back and he winced as the man pushed him away. “And what makes you think Maz even likes me?” The woman stared at him and then shook her head. 

“Solo, you are under the impression this is a request. I am not bound to answer any of your ridiculous questions nor do I want to. Maz Katana, I want you to arrange a meeting with her.” 

“Hmph, well, you can drag her here and just expect her to come running.”

“I wouldn’t,” she inclined her head, “thank you, Fett, that will be all today.” Han Solo, once victim of the man; gaped as Boba Fett gave a nod back and turned to leave. When he was gone, Han swallowed down the false bravado. 

“So… Maz? What do you want with her?” 

“Business.” The architect sat and watched him closely. “You’ve had business dealings with her in the past, correct?” Han chewed on his bottom lip and the woman rolled her eyes. “Solo, I do not have time for your coy, blushing stupidity. Tell me what I want to know or I will pull some very bored former interrogators into this room to beat the answers out of you.” 

“Hey! No need for that!” Han held out his hands, “Maz and I have done business before. She’s got dealings all over the outer rim. She’s a…the smuggling Empress. Can’t get much more than that.” 

“I know where she’s based. I know her reputation and her information. Solo, your job is to get me through the front door.” 

“You’ve made the pretty clear,” Han said, glancing between her and the stuff on her desk. “Who are you?”

“A vintage reliquary.” The smuggler blinked.

“Okay?” 

“We’re leaving tomorrow morning.” He stared at the sudden turn about, “the boys will show you to a room.” 

“What about the ship?” 

“Transportation is already taken care of,” the woman answered and Han found himself walking from the office, head spinning. Once the door slid shut behind him, Han found himself staring at a nearly familiar face. 

It belonged to a clone but the clone was wearing Boba Fett’s armor. 

“Erm.” 

“Kinda takes you off your ship, doesn’t she?” Fett asked roughly and nodded to the door that had shut behind him. “Kinda surprised she didn’t shook you.”

“Who is she?” Han asked, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Boba Fett didn’t look even slightly apologetic or sorry for him. 

“At the moment, my employer. Don’t mess with her, Solo. She’s got deep pockets and a smoldering temper. I’ve seen what she can do when she’s bored but when she’s like this, aggravated and focused.” Fett shook his head, “steer clear and don’t tempt her.” Han felt a shiver of unease running down his spine and he found himself nodding. 

“What are you still doing here?” The door slid open and the woman stomped out. Fett snapped to attention and Han grimaced. “You,” she jabbed a finger at Fett, “have a mission you need to get one right now. You,” Han winced, “get out of my sight and stay where the boys tell you. If you don’t you will be stunned and then properly dealt with when I am done with you. Go,” she waved them both away, “before I start shooting.” They scattered. 

#$#$#

Gohan stared down at the scrape on her hand and then at the bits of her flesh that showed beneath the human skin-color paint. The blue was stark and painfully obvious to anyone that was looking. If anyone was looking. 

At the moment, all eyes were focused on the frustrating TV anchor that she had been carefully manipulating for weeks. No one was looking at the pale pink blood that was oozing past her fingers. Gohan looked up from her hand and around the newsroom. No one was looking at her and, carefully, she extracted herself from the room and into a refresher where she could manage to bandage her hand.’

It wasn’t a good sign. 

It wasn’t just that she’d actually managed to hurt herself. That concerned her too. It was that she didn’t remember hurting herself and she didn’t know if there was someone who now had a sample of her biological data. 

Try as she might, Gohan still hadn’t been able to remove that data from the servers and anyone with access to it would automatically know that she was not where she was supposed to be. Anyone could get it. 

She wondered who had done this? Who had done it so carefully and well? Who did they work for? Someone had to have done it. Gohan took great care to never, ever allow her DNA to get away. There was too much on this for anyone else’s agents to get in on the action. 

The thief considered sending word to her employer but dismissed the though. There was no reason for her to get him stressed over something she could easily handle. 

#$#$# 

The bio data in the vial was a small sample but not small enough that it wouldn’t give Thrawn’s favored agent exactly what he wanted. 

Scratching the girl wasn’t what he’d planned on but after raiding her room and then her office he’d found no trace of DNA. The agent wore gloves all the time, some small and delicate and others more obvious. 

There was no telling who she was connected to. Her files and data was all about the newsroom. Her Net profiles looked normal and she was overall a normal looking human. 

Except for her blood. Which was a delicate pink instead of the thick red it should have been. Timo would have had no trouble dismissing the girl from the line-up from the list of potential agents he’d made except for the niggling bit of doubt in the back of his mine. 

She was someone. She was important. Timo could feel it. 

He fed the drop of blood onto the acceptor and waited twenty minutes before it beeped at him. For a moment his own blood ran cold as he read the file that unfolded itself gracefully on his datapad. 

Timo sighed and carefully complied a report, including the file, sending it onward to the Grand Admiral. 

#$#$#

The holo pics of Luke Skywalker standing beneath his fighter that Thrawn was examining were odd ones. They was certainly artistic, which he appreciated, but the sort of art he wasn’t too fond of. The camera had lingered on the boy’s slight but muscular figure with something approaching desire. The shots were framed to put his muscles, smile, hair, and vividly blue eyes on display. One of Luke Skywalker leaning off his fighter’s ladder was certainly framed more like a model shoot than one for gathering intelligence.

It wasn’t a problem except for the fact that looking at them often made his captain uncomfortable. Humans were a rather sexual species and explaining he was examining the images for mere research purposes made his officer nod in false agreement. There were still so many details in them, telling of both the rebellion and the boy. 

He would add them to his collection. Thrawn was part way through moving them about when he was interrupted by the beeping of his datapad. Absently, still only focusing on the images, he reached out and snagged the padd. He opened the message and glanced down. A second later he glanced back once the full force of what he’d seen hit him. 

He blinked a few times and drew in a startled breath the very moment Captain Palleon let him into his room. 

“Sir?” There was silence and he supposed he must have frightened the man. Baring his much sharper canines in front of humans usually had that effect. 

“Yes, captain?” He seethed, he could feel the datapad warping beneath his fingers. “What is it?” 

“Sir, we have received a missive from Lord Vader. I.” Palleon looked between Thrawn and the slowly breaking datapad, “thought you may want to review it.” 

“What does it concern?” Thrawn’s temper was rising, his blood boiling in his veins as he considered the recent report. 

“Our movements to contain the defectors on the outer rim. There is very little in the way of actual movement on our parts, I am under the impression that Lord Vader simply wishes us to ensure that they do not come back into the Empire, physically or otherwise.” 

“I see.” Thrawn swallowed down some of his anger, “Captain, what do you know of my planet’s culture?” 

“Nothing, sir.” Palleon’s curiosity was obvious but his professionalism kept him silence. The Chiss turned from the holo’s of Skywalker and to the viewport. “Forgive my intrusiveness, is everything alright?” 

“Indeed.” He sucked down another deep breath, “are you aware that the birth rate among humans is almost twice as high as any other sentient species in the galaxy?” 

“Sir?” Palleon’s voice was shocked, he seemed to be blushing. 

“Yes, a very prolific species indeed. Which is my concern. Part of Chiss culture is that children are nearly rare.”

“Really?” The man was getting steadily more uncomfortable. “Sir.” 

“So very rare that abandoning a child is considered a crime so heinous it garners an automatic death sentence.” The datapad under his hand was now creaking. “My species is long lived, the oldest among us at 600 years.” 

“Sir?” Palleon’s shift from discomfort to concern was clear. 

“Captain,” with significant effort Thrawn forced away his rising temper and horror. “Have an officers quarters prepared for a guest.” 

“Ah, yes sir?” 

“Ensure that it is inescapable.” 

“Yes, sir.” Palleon saluted and extracted himself out of the office as soon as he physically could. Damn not looking like a coward. As soon as he was gone, Thrawn stood and hurled his datapad across the room. It shattered against the wall and he was left breathing furiously. Graceful hands clenched and unclenched at his sides until he was seething. 

A daughter. He had a daughter. A child of his flesh and his blood. 

He paced the length of his office, for once his art was ignored. 

A criminal. Grown up on a penal planet that had been a dumping ground for political prisoners for decades. Grown up in isolation, in ignorance, in loneliness. As nothing more than another body. 

His heart clenched. Chiss children were rare enough that he agreed with his Ascendency on how to deal with them. Thrawn rarely agreed with the Ascendency. 

“Gohan.” He rolled the name around his mouth and whispered them into the silent office. She probably didn’t know that Gohan basically translated to ‘rice’ in his first language. She didn’t know anything about her heritage. She didn’t know anything about the culture she belonged to. 

Gohan was…Thrawn paused in his pacing. A criminal and indisputably an agent for Lord Vader. As much as the file had on her it was probably missing a great deal of what the girl was probably guilty of. Standing as it was, it seemed the only crime his daughter was legally accused of was existing. 

This spoke of a personal betrayal.

Palpatine. 

For an infant to be stuck in prison like that it would have had to come from the highest levels of the then Republic. 

Thrawn took a deep, calming breath and focused on how he would extract revenge from the man.


	6. Thawn's Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn is PETTY!

Ezra leaned against the wall beside Hera, staring flatly at his teacher. 

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Hera told her husband. “That will never work. You realize that Thrawn is between us and them, right?” 

“Thrawn we only have to bypass.” Kanan said, “we just need to get past him and do it. It’s not impossible. We have the Architects intel and the intel of the rebellion. This is going to be easy.”

“You’re both Jedi,” Hera reminded him, “you’re not going to be accepted as anything other than trouble. Which explains a lot, really, and what about Dawn?”

“Dawn stays with Zeb, we go to the outer rim and just start breaking shit. Look, love, we’re supposed to start kicking up rocks and dust in the outer rim which is really easy to do. We just make a lot of noise and trouble for everyone out there.”

“It won’t work. The second we start fighting pirates and smugglers and the slavers we’re going to die! They won’t allow it!” 

“But we’re not going to be alone,” Kanan said, “remember, we have friends everywhere. Nar Shadda and a lot of the moons. You and I were popular, we still are. Hell, I still get free drinks when I go into Emo’s dive. This isn’t crazy, Ezra, you’ve still got friend out there. Hondo’s got nothing better to do!” 

“You want us to waltz right past Thrawn’s ships that are safeguarding the outer rim and just....” Hera waved a hand, “start shooting up Imperial garrisons and bars?” 

“And the Hutt palaces!” Kanan grinned widely, “we can do it. I don’t we can. We recruit, we fight. It’ll be easy.” 

“Does this mean I won’t be able to pretend to be Jabba the Hutt?” Ezra pouted and Hera smacked his leg. “What! I think it’ll work. At the very least we’ll cause a bit of a ruckus and I love causing trouble.” 

“I know.” Hera rubbed her head, “Kanan, what gave you this idea?”

“I guess it just came to me.” He stood as Dawn toddled into the room. “Dawn, sweetie. Come to Papa.”

“PAPA!” Dawn squeaked and fell onto his boots, where she stayed. Kanan bent over and picked her up.

“What are you doing?” He asked and the toddler squeaked meaningless babble at him. “That sounds like a lot of fun.” Hera sighed behind him. “Love?” 

“I guess I’m going to get the Ghost ready for Operation Idiot.” She sighed deeply and stood, “make sure she goes down for her nap, alright?” 

“Of course.” Kanan dropped a kiss on her head before she made her way out.

#$#$#

The magazine detailing the ‘SUPER SECRETS OF A TEENAGERS HEART!’ was not helpful to Thrawn. He frowned mightily at the article detailing how to best apply make-up and then at the one that offered tips on dating.

Gohan was not this vapid. She couldn’t be. She was a thief, a criminal. She was his daughter. Any child of his would automatically be better than the rest of the idiotic children running about the galaxy. 

She was one of Vader’s agents.

“Sir?” He flipped to another page of the magazine and waited for Captain Palleon to speak. “We have settled into a steady position above the Hydrian highway. All captains have reported in.” 

“Well done, Captain.” He frowned some more and traded the magazine for another. This one a preview of a gallery of Generation Zero art. “What else do you have to report?” The paintings and sculptures were either depressing or pointless. 

“Ah, nothing, sir. I’m just curious. Why…do you seem to reading those magazines?” He glanced to the human who stuttered. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding but I.” 

“I am doing research. Rather fruitless research in an attempt to understand a singular mind.” Palleon glanced at the pink and yellow pile of magazines set on his table. 

“Ah, is it going well?” 

“No.” Thrawn’s pen circled a line, “the information I have come across is either wildly inaccurate and exaggerated and/or blatantly false. None of this seems even remotely real. I have difficulty believing that sensible senients would believe half of these lies.” 

“Perhaps none of it is meant for sensible sentients?” Palleon suggested. 

“Were you aware of how little information there is in the galaxy regarding the upbringing and lives of those who are of mixed heritage.” 

“Mixed heritage?”

“I believe the popular and derogatory term is half-breed. Generally, the only species that can successfully produce children of different parentages are humans. This generally consists of human women carrying the offspring and human men when sharing DNA. Human DNA is very versatile when it comes to building itself with others.” He ignored the acute discomfort the Captain was obviously suffering. “Though there the population of mixed human genetics is not small I simply cannot locate a definitive understanding of its sociology.” 

“Sociology?” 

“What does it mean for them, the child and the parents. I am…curious.”

“Sir.” Palleon was too smart not to catch the undertone of his conversation and if Thrawn hadn’t wanted to him to know even the slightest detail he wouldn’t have discussed it willingly. “If I may ask…why the sudden curiosity?” 

“A case has come up.” Thrawn paused and waited for Palleon to connect the dots.  
“Sir!” The captain looked about his office in the search for recording devices. “Sir?” 

“It appears,” Thrawn turned on the only holo he had of his daughter and set it where his captain could see. “I have a daughter.” 

“Sir.” Palleon picked up the holo with all due deference, staring at the flickering image. It was of Gohan leaning against a wooden building. A tilted hat was set on her hair and her clothes were dusty and of a distinct cowboy style. She was grinning insolently at the cameraman. “I…she looks a great deal like you, sir.”

“She does,” Thrawn agreed and he sat down. Palleon looked between the vibrant girl and the Grand Admiral. 

“Do you know where she is?” 

“I have a vague idea. She is currently employed in a manner that, should I interrupt to make contact, would destroy any possibility of us building a further relationship.” 

“You have not met her?” 

“No, I have only just learned of her existence.” 

“Sir,” Palleon set the holo-projector down. “I…what else is bothering you?” 

“You are an astute man,” Thrawn nearly smiled, “I am concerned on two fronts. First, my daughter’s life was…less than it should have been. Raised in a place she should have never been in. This means I was betrayed. Personally, betrayed by someone far higher than I am. Second, I have failed one of the most…important duties a Chiss may ever accept. No matter how often I agreed with homeworld on the subject of military matter and duties…I never disagreed with the duties of parents.” 

“Sir.”

“Are you aware of how low the birthrate among my species is?” Thrawn stared out the viewport, expression tight. “Astronomically low in comparison to humans and I did not even know she was alive! I,” he clenched a fist, “she grew up a criminal! A thief. A prisoner! This is not proper! She is the granddaughter of Dynast Mag’osuki’langork! She is my daughter!” Thrawn fumed. Palleon’s shock was wildly obvious. 

“Is it possible to establish contact with her?” 

“No,” he seemed to rein in his temper. “Not yet. Captain, I will not allow this betrayal to go unpunished. Will you help me?”

“Sir.” Palleon took a breath and nodded, “how would you like me to help?” 

“This is a major point of jump off and landing for many travelling the highway. I am sure it will be used soon by agents of an unknown figurehead. So far only known as the Architect. Whichever their agents are, they pass unmolested. We do not engage.”

“Aiding rebels and criminals?” 

“Someone has already begun the destruction of the man responsible. I have seen the change. If we are to help then we only need to stand by and do nothing.” 

“Nothing?” Palleon glanced between Thrawn and the image of his daughter. “Of course, sir.” 

“However, if any known rebel ships do come through the intersection have an alert sent to me.” Thrawn set the holo-images down and watched Palleon salute and make a break for it. 

#$#$3

Hera let out a nervous breath as the Ghost reversed from hyperspace. Her instinctive reaction was to curse wildly at the sight of the fleet of star destroyers set in military exactness around the most useful jump off points. Except that Dawn was sitting in Kanan’s lap and had already begune repeated Zeb’s ever favorite swear word ‘karabast’. 

“Kanan.” She hissed and Kanan tilted his head her direction. 

“Yes, my love.” 

“There are a lot of star destroyers out there.” 

“Don’t worry about them,” he suggested blandly and Hera frowned mightily. “I’m kidding. Are they attacking yet?”

“No. Just…sitting there.” 

“Alright then.” 

“Hey! What are we going to do about that?” Ezra’s voice came down the comm line, a bit panicked but otherwise controlled. “Mom…I mean, Hera?” 

Hera didn’t quite manage to keep her smile off her face. She didn’t get the chance to reply as the hailing channel beeped at her.

“We’re being hailed.” Kanan picked up Dawn and retreated out of the pick-up range. Hera glowered at him, Kanan only smiled. “All of you be quiet, we’re being hailed.” She accepted the call and flinched when a ten-inch-tall Grand Admiral Thrawn flared into existence on her console. 

“General Syndulla.” His smooth voice made her skin crawl. She glowered at the Grand Admiral. “It has been some time.” 

“Not long enough.” 

“Indeed. Had I been at Scariff as well it would not be nearing eight years since our last encounter.” Thrawn pursed his lips. “I am sure that you are going into the newly dubbed “Black Out Zone” for rebellious and nefarious purposes. Isards and the Generals foolish attempts to declare independence from the Empire are no doubt upsetting a great many people.”

“You’re not going to stop them?” 

“My orders from Lord Vader were to stay here and to keep them from getting out and form anyone from going in.” His red eyes narrowed. “Between ranking officers, General Syndulla, I am deeply disinclined to do anything of the like.” 

“Really?” Hera examined the Imperial a little more closely. He seemed angry but not at her. His temper was under tight control but still obvious. “And the benefits me?”

“I am granting your ship passage through the junction point to where you need to go as well as several…gifts that may be useful for your mission.” 

“Someone must have really ticked him off.” Kanan muttered, “if he’s helping known rebels.”

“Your paramour is correct.” Kanan coughed awkwardly. Thrawn didn’t seem to react, “my ship is going to be jettisoning a supply crate. Take it and leave. What happens here remains discreet or I will hunt your ship down and destroy all aboard.” 

“BLUE!” Hera’s head whipped around and Kanan winced as Dawn, bored with the inattention, shrieked. She nearly threw herself from Kanan’s grip trying to reach the holo. “BLUE!” Thrawn’s brow rose. 

“I will hunt your ship down and destroy almost all aboard.” The holo cut out and Hera frowned. 

“He is not happy with the Empire.” 

“I sensed that to but his offer is genuine.” 

“And now he knows that Dawn is here.” She glanced at her daughter who was trying to climb on Kanan’s head. “Fuck.”

“HERA!” 

“Should we pick up the crate?” She asked and watched as the object of conversation appeared through the viewport. 

“Yes.” 

“Sabine, Zeb, get ready to dock a crate of supplies.”

“What’d they want?” Ezra asked from his gunners position. 

“We’ll have a family meeting once we’re in hyperspace. I’m not discussing it over open channels.” 

“Alright.” They chorused. Hera maneuvered the Ghost into a pick-up position; her grip on the controls almost too tight. 

Thrawn knew about her daughter. He knew about Dawn. Even if he was passively resisting the Emperor, for whatever reason, then he had to have a reason. He’d suggested that he wouldn’t kill Dawn which didn’t fill her with much confidence. Her stared at Kanan and her daughter out of the corner of her eyes, still nervous. 

#$#$#

Thrawn watched the Ghost dawdle only a moment before leaping into hyperspace and vanishing. He turned back to his desk and the image of Gohan. 

“The rebels are safely away, sir.” Palleon was still uncomfortable with the silent defection. “Sir…what do we tell Lord Vader should he…discover?” 

“We tell him the truth.” The captain nearly choked on his spit. “He will not care, I am sure and at the very least he will understand.” 

“Of course.” Palleon agreed nervously. “I will go. Is there anything you need at this point?” 

“No, thank you, Captain Palleon.” Thrawn dismissed the increasingly nervous man quickly. He made his escape and Thrawn looked back at his display screen. 

Vader, the Emperor, Skywalker, Organa, the mysterious Architect. Somewhere Princess Doora fit in on this. The political cartoons, the recent economic collapse. 

All of it fit together somehow. Gohan fit in somewhere too. 

He pale red eyes narrowed as he surveyed his disassembled puzzle pieces. 

#$#$#$#

Tang’s eyebrows hadn’t moved down her face since the day before yesterday. 

“What?” Han Solo leaned around, glaring at her as she read the message that had come through on her datapad. 

“A happening of intense curiosity.” Tang replied, closing down the datapad. “How fare are we out?” 

“Not far.” Solo grumbled, leaning back into the pilots seat and staring out the viewport. “Just another few hours. “What do you want from the old dame anyway?” 

“That is not for you to know, Solo.” Tang moved to settle in the co-pilots chair, “it doesn’t concern you.” 

“You sent Boba Fett to pick me up. My…Leia and her obnoxious Jedi buddies all had a good laugh at my expense.” 

“I doubt Skywalker laughed at you. I am sure he just amusement at your expense.” 

“Luke’s not some fluffy haired farm boy saint people make him out to be.” Han grumbled. “He’s a sarcastic little snot.”

“I know.” Han frowned at her and decided to say nothing. 

“Yeah, the shining hope of the rebellion. It wouldn’t do for them to realize that Skywalker is human.”


	7. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maz and Tang meet.   
> Thrawn goes after information on Gohan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait.

Maz’s castle was as Han remembered it. Full of ships of smuggler and pirates, full of criminals of all sorts. Han had loved it because it gave him somewhere to crash when he was in trouble. Chewie loved it because it gave him someone he could harmlessly flirt with.

He paused at the gate and gazed into the courtyard and the dozens of flags above it. 

“You sure you want to go into here?” Han looked back at the woman named Tang, nervous. “Maz seems nice, but she’s still pretty ruthless.”

“Then she’ll be in good company.” Tang gestured him forward, and Han shrugged, leading her into the courtyard. When they entered the front rooms were stragglers, and court hangers-on were, they scanned the room. 

“SOLO!” Max, tiny and orange, pulled herself from the crowd. She stomped up to the smuggler turned prince consort. “What are you doing? Where’s my boyfriend?” 

“Chewie’s with the falcon,” Han stuffed his hands into his pocket.

Enormously magnified eyes turned to Tang, “who are you? You have my cutie under duress.” 

“I do.” Tang admitted, “I need a conversation. I thought bringing you something pretty enough to put you in a good mood would get you to agree.” Han blushed, and Maz burst into laughter. 

“I like your style!” The alien exclaimed, “come, come. Let’s talk. Do you need the pretty boy? “

“No.” Tang waved him and the two middle-aged clones away. She and Maz disappeared into a side room and were soon followed by a droid carrying a plate of food. Han dropped onto a spare seat and took a drink of something bright blue.

$#$#

 

“I haven’t seen your like in some time.” Tang stared at the shorter woman, “your eyes, are very different.” 

“I am a unique individual,” she said and glanced down at the tea that had been served, “so are you, Katana. Your pirate fleet was and is some trouble to galactic authority.” 

“Thanks,” the alien grinned, “what do you need from me? You courted risk by brining Solo. You didn’t know if I liked him still.”

“He’s a hard person to truly hate,” Tang replied.

“What do you need?” 

“Your fleet of pirates. You might have noticed that the galaxy is a bit of a mess. Emperor Palpatine’s holed in his palace and assuming everything is going to work out for him. It’s a nice idea but I’ve got plans for him, and they include him being very dead.” 

“I stay out of politics.” Maz told her, “I’m too old. Do I look like Yoda?”

“You’ve met him?” 

“Unfortunately,” Maz magnified her glasses, “a real snot. He used to be handsome when he was a few centuries younger.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” Tang made a face. “I need your fleet to start blasting Hutt’s crews.”

“Why?”

“Because the war is going to end soon and you need to be on the right side.” 

“That is quite the claim.” Maz stared, unsettlingly, “how can you be sure that you can do anything of the sort? Why do my employees have to do with anything?” 

“I need chaos. More chaos than what I’ve got right now. I need them targeting specific trade routes and other pirates.” 

“What makes you think that they’ll accept. They’re pirates, not employees.” Maz lifted her own cup, “what are you offering?”

“Money and legal pardon when we’re done.” Tang set out a piece of paper, “Furthermore, some exciting new opportunities in the Core.”

“I am intrigued.”

“There’s a crew of rebels out on the Outer Rim deep in Hutt territory. They need an armada and an army if they’re going to succeed.” 

“You want mercenaries,” the woman grinned, and Maz nodded, “but that’s not all you want.” 

“You’re old. I know somewhere in the dump you have a nice Jedi-proof cell. I need that soon.” 

“Why?” Maz demanded. “Who are you planning on locking up?” 

“I just need the cell and your pirates, and I’ll make the entire thing worth your while.” Tang produced a data stick and slid it across the table. “Here.” 

Maz took it and after examining the contents grinned. “Excellent. I’ve needed something to entertain me.” 

“The cell?”

“Let me show you.”

#$#$#

“You know they haven’t sent me on any missions in weeks.” Yoda didn’t move as Luke sat down beside him. Not in front of him, like a student should. Beside him, as an equal. Something about the display made him annoyed, but he wasn’t sure why. “Why not?”

“Your training, incomplete it is,” Yoda told the young human. “Rash and emotional you are. A dangerous combination.” 

“I’ve been on plenty of other missions without losing my cool.” Luke pointed out, not bothering to deny Yoda’s claim. “I’ve been training too. Why can’t I go out on a mission?” 

Yoda, at a loss, said nothing. He settled back into meditation until Luke scoffed and walked away. Yoda paused as he sensed Ahsoka’s force signature not too far away. Frightened by the passion she no longer sought to control, Yoda banked his own signature and hid. 

#$#

For all his claims that he wouldn’t attempt to sabotage his daughter’s work. There was little he could do to stop himself from going to Penal Planet 13.

“Grand Admiral!” The commandant was a tall, thin man who wrung his hands nervously together. “Welcome to 13! As the prisoners affectionately call it. There’s not much here, but we do like to offer some of the.”

“Stop.” Thrawn held up a hand, and the blathering man shut his mouth. “I am not here to indulge. I am here for information.” 

“Of course!” The man beamed, “What can I help you with?” 

“Your prisoners are…of a different kind. Not usually violent offenders?” 

“No sir,” Colonel Klempar blinked at him, “not usually though we do have a great deal of clones here. They are such nice lads with their little…I mean. They are very firmly cowed, sir.” 

Thrawn barely managed to retrain rolling his eyes. “I am here for the prisoner that was brought here as an infant.” Klempar froze and swallowed hard. 

“Infant prisoner? That would be highy unethical.” Klempar looked away, narrow blue eyes darting to a cabinet. Thrawn raised an eyebrow. 

“It would be, yet you know that would not stop those that demanded you take the child. Where is she?” 

“Who?” 

“Gohan,” Thrawn stepped forward, keeping his voice as pleasant as possible. “The child brought here over 20 years ago. My daughter.” 

“Ah.” Apparently lost for words the human was reduced to staring. 

“My daughter?” 

“Don’t pretend to be stupid.” Thrawn moved faster than the human, punching him square in the face. Enough to make the man useless and immobile. Kommandant Klempar fell to the ground, face bloody and dazed. “I’ve had enough to being lead about.” He walked over the immobile human and yanked open the cabinet to find nothing but bottles of alcohol. One by one he removed them until he came across the false back. 

Inside was what he’d been looking for. 

A dozen paper and flimsi files. A few pieces of metal and a small collection of pictures. 

He set it all on the desk and worked his way through the files. The progression of pictures of his daughter, from a tiny bundle to a running and talking child, was infuriating. There was a holo of her taking her first steps. Waddling out of a fat sergeant arms and toward a beaming commandant. 

“Come on!” The man cooed at his young daughter, “just walk. You’re doing just fine! Just a few steps!” With a sick feeling, he switched off the holo before he could watch her move. He gritted his teeth. Thrawn flipped another holo on. 

Gohan, ten or so, leaning against a wall looking angry and betrayed. Later, Gohan looking angry and holding a blaster. Klempar was kneeling next to her, teaching her. 

Every few pictures, the commandant would feature. Showing up in the places that Thrawn felt he should have been. Standing beside his daughter as she grew. 

The last one was of Gohan with her back to the camera. Her head seemed to be angled toward the sky, long black hair flowed over her shoulder, but Thrawn could see the longing and desperation in her posture. She couldn’t have been older than 13 in this one. 

“She didn’t hate you.” He glanced at the commandant, who was wheezing and picking himself off the floor.

“This is none of your business,” Thrawn replied curtly. 

“Yes it is,” the human gasped and finally dragged himself up to his feet, “they were going to kill her.” He went colder than his own planets core. “Going to kill her just for existing, but then the orders came down to bring her here.” 

“You took a prisoner under your personal attention,” Thrawn straightened, sweeping the information into his bag. “An infant.” 

“Gohan was innocent.” Klempar glared at him, still wheezy.

“You raised her!” Thrawn shouted, standing and suddenly furious. “You raised my daughter!” His blaster was out before he could stop himself. 

Klempar, for the first time, didn’t quiver or cower. He looked Thrawn and nodded. “I did.” 

 

“She is out there! Now! As an adult and living and working and wrecking havoc!” 

“She probably is.” The human sighed, “I tried to raise her to be…something. I don’t know what. I hardly even know what I taught her. One day she was sleeping in a crib and the next she was running around and stealing my toupee. Have you? Have you met her?” 

“Not yet.” Thrawn straightened and wondered what he ought to say. The human looked at him with pity in his gray eyes, a painful emotion that made the Grand Admiral seethe. “I am taking these.” 

“You can’t leave a copy?” Klempar jumped to his feet, hands still covering his newly forming bruise. 

“Perhaps I will send copies back.” Thrawn snapped as he removed himself from the office and took the files and holos with him. “If I allow you to live.” 

“Ah, there’s where she gets her sense of drama.” The commandant scoffed, and Thrawn went back to his ship, fuming with rage.


	8. A TIE pilot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone does something.

Luke worked, roused by the clawed hand of Yoda on his shoulder. 

“Rise, Padawan. A meeting awaits.” 

“A meeting?” Luke pulled himself from beneath the blankets, blearily staring up at his teacher and then around the small room to see if he’d left his jacket anywhere. “What meeting? We were in meetings all day yesterday.” 

“Unsure, I am. Up, Padawan. A new day comes.”

“A new day can suck it,” Luke yawned and sat up. “Fine, fine. I have to get changed, and I’m not getting changed in front of you.” 

Yoda didn’t answer, but hopped off the cots support beam and waddled out of the room. Luke threw back his blanket and got up. He joined the small Jedi in the hallway, not minding too much when Yoda hopped onto his shoulders. 

“Do we know what this meeting is about?” 

“Confidential, this is.” 

“Oh,” Luke made his way into the council room, an oversized closet with aspirations, and glanced around to see who else might have joined them. Leia and Ahsoka were already waiting. Han still hadn't returned from his mission with Tang. A few others worked their way into the room, and Mon Mothma took center stage. 

“Thank you for joining us at this early hour,” she began. “We have received word from our ally that the next stage of our plan is to take place. Three days from now a forward team of the Rogue Squadron and several infantrymen will be infiltrating a base on Geonosis. Rather,” she looked down, grief across her face, “what is left of Geonosis. There is evidence that the old droid factories might be activated. If the Empire has contingents of droid troopers as well as an active, sentient military, then all hope is lost.” Luke stared at the woman. She couldn’t sense the Force, which was currently blaring in his ears. He wasn’t sure what it was, but this entire operation seemed to be a set-up. “Our information came from the highest source. Our ally the Architect, tells us that this is vital to stopping the furthering spread of the Empire.” 

It was a set-up! Luke realized with a small sense of smug satisfaction. Tang was leveraging something from the rebellion. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he had the feeling it wasn’t going to make Mon Mothma happy. 

#$#$#4

“You are a ridiculous woman.” Vader turned away from his hologram, furious at Tang. “This will never work!” 

“It will work!” Tang argued, “and you’ve got no choice. If you corner Skywalker at that droid factory, you duel him.” 

“The Emperor will never believe that Skywalker managed to defeat me. Even if he has been training with Yoda, he is not experienced enough to duel me to a standstill. Palpatine would never fall for such an obvious ruse.” 

“You overestimate him and underestimate me. Do not do that. It annoys me enough to considering killing you myself.” 

“The Emperor has been manipulating the galaxy for decades! One afternoon of fighting will not convince him.” 

“You aren’t special enough to be the lynch-pin in this plan, Lord Vader. I have other contingencies. You only have to duel Skywalker long enough. You’ll have your cues on when to give up and fall back. This isn’t orbital science. This is genius in its simplicity.”

“You will have me executed at dawn,” Vader rumbled, but he settled back into his seat. Given how much attention was focused on the Core and his newest political ambitions, this would bee the last time he would ever see Luke face to face. “I cannot let this be my last meeting with Luke. I must have a chance to speak to him.” 

“I can’t let you do that. You’re watched as much as it is. This has to be your last meeting with Luke. Once you’ve succeeded there, go back to the Core. I’ll handle everything afterward.” 

Vader considered the hologram of Tang. She was cruel enough to enforce this, and she made a certain bitter sense. If Luke anticipated that their last duel would be his final; his reactions would be horrific and dangerous. Tang’s coup depended on Vader’s death, and Luke would only interfere. He wondered what he should say. “I will leave him a final message.” 

“That could work,” Tang agreed, “I’ll give it to him when we’re done.” 

“Yes,” the Sith drummed his artificial fingers against his chair. “What of Doora? When I am dead, she will need protection and assistance.” 

“There won’t be much love lost between you,” Tang told him, bitterly cynical. “I’ve arranged for her to be passed into the custody of someone who might be a better father.” 

Once, Vader might have formed an attachment to Doora. He might have enjoyed her company. He might have cared about her injuries and pain. He might have been able to muster enough care of sympathize with her. Now, he only considered the adopted girl with an apathetic gaze. “Then her introduction to the Court?” 

“What’s left of it? Yes, it’ll still happen. You have your timetable, stick to it, and nothing will go wrong.” She moved a little, her hologram flickering. Almost as if Tang would offer him comfort or a patient word. “I’m signing off. Tell Doora I said hello, would you?” 

“Very well,” Vader waved her off, and the holo shut off a moment later. In the silence that followed, he considered how Tang would manage to destroy his master. 

#$#$#4

Doora looked up from her datapad, surprised as Darth Vader stalked into the room. “Captain Tang sends her regards.” 

“Tang?” Doora blinked, “she’s here?” 

“No,” Vader seemed to consider her. The same calculating stare he’d used when they’d first met rested on her now. Whatever he was thinking, couldn’t be good. “Have you prepared yourself properly for the arrival at Imperial Center?” 

“Yes,” it was difficult to keep the resentful bitterness out of her tone. Vader didn’t seem like he was in the mood for an argument. Despite what Tang said, Doora did have a sense of self-preservation. 

“Then follow me,” he ordered. She climbed to her feet nervously and followed the Sith down to the hanger, where his ship and several others waited. “These ships need repair and maintenance. Considering what needs to be done and compile a report.”

“Erm,” Doora tugged at her collar, “I don’t know much about fixing TIE fighters.” 

“You managed the other ship well enough for a test flight.” 

“I didn’t repair or. I sort of repaired it,” Doora told him. “I kept the frame the same, but I did a lot of work to the engine. Almost…rebuilding it from the ground up.” 

“It functioned,” Vader told her. “Indulge your reconfiguring tendencies with this one. It will be yours for here on out.” 

“Mine?” Doora stared between the Sith and then the TIE fighter. “MINE!” 

“Yes.” Vader was silent as Doora edged around the TIE fighter, excitement blazing to life in her eyes. 

“It’s going be the fastest ship in the galaxy,” she announced with confidence he hadn’t seen in a while. “I’ll be able to outrun any blockade in the galaxy.” 

“You will not,” Vader ordered, “your first ship is still in impound.”

“Can I get it back?” 

“No, you may not,” Vader replied immediately. Doora had been dangerous aboard that ship, and his men were still the doting type. Their nervousness at Doora’s “promotion” hadn’t escaped him. “You will manage well with this one.” 

“Alright,” Doora ran a hand over its casing. “This could work.” 

#$#$#$

A fleet had assembled at Thrawn’s doorstep. Not one he recognized or cared to recognize. There was no way a rag-tag collection of moldy starships and fighters would ever fly under a single banner. Or so Thrawn had believed. A day ago the largest starship arrived, a remodeled and refit Confederacy ship, bearing a standard that was quickly painted to the side of every single ship assembling. 

“It’s an armada.” Captain Palleon said. His expression turned from shock to alarm as the ships began moving into a formation. “Sir, won’t we stop them?” 

“Our orders are to ensure that none of the defectors return to Imperial space.” 

“Sir, but there is an armada forming, and we’re not doing anything.” 

“We weren’t ordered to.” He watched Palleon try to consider what that meant. Trying to understand why Thrawn was complying so perfectly with their orders. “Those entering the containment zone are not my concern.” 

“Sir, I don’t understand. This armada is amassing for a purpose. If they intend to attack and destroy the defectors.” 

“What concern of it is ours? Defectors are traitors to the Empire and if they are attacked and defeated.” Thrawn watched the armada outside, admiring the view. “But a force of pirates and smugglers, then that shall be judged by history. Not us.” 

“Sir, we are supposed to defend the Empire. How can we be expected to do it properly?” 

“It seems that these criminal types are leaving the Empire. I can’t imagine that they will do much damage to it when they aren’t there.” 

“Sir?” Palleon floundered for a reason to stop them. He looked from Thrawn, sipping tea and observing the assembling fleet, to the assembling fleet. “Is this about your daughter?” 

“Should it be?” Thrawn looked back at him, his eyebrows raised, daring Palleon to question him. 

“Have you made contact, sir?” 

“I will once this is over.” 

“Once what is over, sir?” 

“The coup,” Thrawn replied, turning his gaze back to the fleet outside the viewport. “Lord Vader’s coup.” 

“Lord Vader’s what?” Palleon demanded he wasn’t sure he could manage any more of the Grand Admiral’s evasiveness. “Lord Vader would never betray the Empire! His work these last few months proves that he is trying to hold it together!” 

“The Empire, maybe not, but he would betray the Emperor. Tha man betrayed him first, as he did to me. My daughter and his son are the same sort of people. Held at the distance of their living parents to turn them into a weapon one day. Used against them.” 

There were many things to unpack from that sentence, and Palleon wasn’t sure where to start. 

“Son?” 

“Lord Vader’s son,” Thrawn gave a thoughtful hum as the motley armada began to turn for their hyperspace jump. “Luke Skywalker.”

“Luke Skywalker is Lord Vader’s son?” 

“Yes, which explains his rather peculiar actions these last few years.” 

“I think you’re being a hypocrite, sir.” Palleon and Thrawn watched the armada jump to lightspeed, vanishing in seconds. Soon, the Chrimea was alone again


	9. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader's plan begins to play out.

“We’re being hailed,” Hera turned in her chair, flicking the comm unit on. Beside her, Ezra continued to work through the take-off sequence. 

“General Syndulla!” A tiny orange alien with bright eyes appeared. “How nice to see you again! How are you?” 

“Maz?” Hera smiled, waving Ezra to keep working and not panic, “what brings you here?” 

“I’ve just arrived, my friend. I brought some help. Come to the far side of this moon, and we’ll talk. I have some truly fantastic ideas on what we can do to finally rid ourselves of the outer rim folk who gives scum a bad name.” 

“That might work, Maz, but you told me you were retired.” 

“Retired, reshmired, I met a wonderful person with an amazing sense of human and I’d like to impress. Given what you know about the matter on the Outer Rim, I’d like to help.” 

“Help?” She glanced at Ezra who jabbed wordlessly at the radar screen. Then she looked out the viewport, feeling her stomach drop. The sky was full of ships of all shapes an sizes. It looked like a whole armada had assembled. “Help!” 

‘Yes, they were so pleased to have something to fight for! I am here to offer my services of my armada, General Syndulla.” The smaller alien was grinning so hard Hera could see her too-sharp teeth. 

“This is fantastic,” Hera nodded firmly, “Maz, send me the details, and we’ll get on it. I hope you’re ready for war.” 

“War! Ha! I’ve fought in at least two dozen! What’s wrong with a few more?” 

#$#$#$#

There were very few things that Palpatine enjoyed as much as watching his apprentice suffer. He didn’t enjoy the servitude Vader offered half as much as he had enjoyed breaking Anakin Skywalker, but this was sufficient entertainment. 

He left the man kneeling as he focused on the small girl just a few steps behind him. She was young, younger than Luke Skywalker, but far more a hardened person. Her eyes were dark and angry, which reflected in her stiff posture. She didn’t want to be here any more than Vader did. Her black hair had been braided into an impressive crown of dreadlocks, decorated with gold and silver jewelry. Someone had taken the time to tailor an appropriate court gown for her, but given her overall attitude and history, Palpatine got the impression she was better suited in a mechanics overalls. 

“Princess,” he held out a hand, as Grandfatherly to her as he had once been to Vader. “Come closer, young princess, come closer.” She glanced at her adoptive father and then back at him. When no cues were forthcoming from the Sith, she stood and made her way up the dais. The eyes of the court followed her. None of the assembled courtiers would speak until the presentation was finished. 

“Your Highness,” she gave a tight, unpleasant smile, and curtsied. Not the smoothest curtsey he’d ever seen, but she was still learning. 

“Princess Vader,” undisguised dislike flashed in her eyes as Palpatine took her hand. “Welcome to the Imperial Court; it was just starting to get boring.” She clenched her jaw and nodded briskly. The hand he held trembled, and he could sense her growing desire to yank it back. “I have heard many of your feats, princess. Your daring piloting is no doubt what drew your fathers attention. Many pilots have met their doom at your hands, young princess.” He clicked his tongue, “naughty, naughty.” Her hand balled into the fist, and she moved to pull it out of his grip. Palpatine held tight to her wrist. “No doubt your father has taught you the error of your ways.” 

“I don’t think the sims practice I’ve been getting is to teach how not to shoot people,” her voice was just loud enough that only the closest courtiers could hear her. 

She wouldn’t survive the month, Palpatine decided. A wonderfully staged murder would cheer him up. 

“Be careful, princess,” Palpatine hissed, keeping his smile firmly in place. “You aren’t in the gutters and sewers; your filth won’t fit in here. Or did you think that your adoption would make anyone forget the trash pile you crawled out of?”

There was fear in her eyes, but hatred and fury too. An air of violence that Palpatine hadn’t seen the likes of in decades. “Then we’re both gold plated trash,” she responded, finally yanking her hand back. “ ‘cept I’m not lyin’ to myself.” 

“You,” Palpatine decided perfectly calm, “will pay for that.” 

“Add it to my tab,” her smile, hidden from the court was toothy. He sneered as she turned around.

“My friends,” he held up his hands, “welcome Princess Vader to the Court!” The applause was graciously received by the young woman as she moved back to her adoptive father, who stood at the Emperor’s signal. “In these troubled times, it is best we hold celebrations to ease our worries and fears.” The applause faded and the orchestra began to play. 

#$#$#

“What did you say?” Vader leaned close to Doora, his proximity keeping the courtiers at bay for the moment. 

“Everything you told me not to,” she turned to look up at him. Vader mentally slapped his forehead and wanted to heave a sigh of dismay. 

This was exactly what he should have expected. Now he owed Captain Tang a bottle of fine alcohol. Since he would have to wait until later to reprimand the wholly unapologetic child, he nodded. 

“Very well,” he straightened, “enjoy your evening.” He swept away, feeling Doora’s outrage directed at his back as the first of the courtiers moved forward to speak to her. 

$#$# Three Weeks Later ##$#$

“So,” Hera waited until Maz poured the tea before she continued, “Dawn and Zeb were fine, but I can’t leave the front again until we have the defector's fleets destroyed. The Hutts too.” 

“Being away from your children is difficult,” Maz sighed, “but winning a war for them to have a thriving future is possibly the best you can do for them.”

“It’s the only thing I can do for Dawn,” Hera hunched up, breathing in the steam of her tea. “She’s force sensitive, and I don’t want to her spend her life on the run. Afraid of Vader and the inquisitors every day of her life. I want her to have a chance to learn on her own terms. She’s already growing up too quickly.” 

“You are a great general,” Maz pointed out the window at the fleet, “you’ve led us into battle, successfully each time.” 

“I’ve seen better dogfights from the pirates than I’ve gotten from the imps I’ve flown against. They aren’t going down easy.” 

“I wouldn’t worry,” Maz handed her a biscuit, and the door shook under someone’s forceful knocking. IT slid open to reveal Ezra, looking breathless and windswept. 

“General Mom!” Ezra babbled, falling into the room, beaming. “You know how you told to use to scout out Axilla and then report back without getting into trouble?” 

“Yes!” Hera stood up, and Ezra held out his arms, “what happened?” 

“High Lord Protector Piett wants to support you! She says that the defectors tried to press-gang her anti-pirate fleet into service, but they fought them off. Now she wants to fight with you. She’s not really happy, and she’s waiting on the line.” 

“Ezra!” Her set her cub down and rushed toward the comm unit where the holo of an older human woman wearing a ferocious scowl was waiting. 

“General Syndulla, your son was good enough to connect me. I am hoping you’ll take some reinforcements.” 

“What’s your strength?” Hera asked, adjusting her uniform.

“We’ve got five Devastator class starships, eighteen squads of pilots with Axillian fighters to each. Four landing divisions on each. I have four ion ships, two artificial gravity wells, and about four hundred impounded ships that all work and have a full fuel tank. You get pilots; you can have them.” Hera sucked in a deep breath, the human’s gimlet stare didn’t relent. “We’re here to liberate the outer rim from the Hutts and the Imperials. I know where your lines are, and I have my own information on the Hutts. If you want to meet up, we can discuss strategy. “

“Alright,” Hera had never commanded more than a small group, Maz’s crew was stretching her capabilities, but being a supreme commander of the liberation force was going to be possible with the right help. “We’ll meet at Sullust, as soon as you can be there.” 

“Alright,” the human nodded at Maz, “I thought I saw your standard, Maz. What brings you into this war?” 

“Money and riches,” Maz winked, “and the chance to fight with the best and for the best. I’ll bring the tea.” 

“I’ll bring the tea,” the human said. 

“I’ll bring cookies,” Hera scowled at both women, “Protector, I’ll see you soon.” The call cut off, and she frowned at Ezra. “General Mom?” 

“To be fair,” he shrugged, “Kanan told me he’d pay me five credits if I called you that.” 

“You’re both fired,” Hera grumbled, “go send out a call for the assembly of my captains.” Ezra winked and departed. 

“You’ve come a long way, Phonix commander.” 

“We all have to adapt to the situations we have,” Hera sucked in a deep breath, and steadied herself. “I just how the rest of the rebels are doing as well as we are.” 

#$#$#$#$

As news filtered out of the Outer Rim, Vader’s appreciation for the duplicity of Tang mounted with each letter. General Syndulla had been joined by the fleet of Maz Katana, bolstering her with ships she needed desperately. Then the pledge of the Axillian Anti-Pirate Fleet, which gave them even more manpower, as well as ground forces they needed. 

“This is excellent,” Vader watched the holo of the Outer Rim spin in front of him. 

“Oh yes, thanks to Ezra Bridgers stupidity they have the ally they need, ”Tang's voice filtered through the comm, “the defectors are already being driven back to Nar Shadda and Nal Hutta. I think that a few well-placed agents on Nar Shadda will turn the planet against Nal Hutta, but that will take some time. The rebel strike force is ready to attack the Genoshian droid factory soon. Are you set?” 

“I am,” Vader sighed, “I have transmitted the message to you. Show it to Luke after I…” Vader clenched at his armrests. If he went through with this, failed to capture his son at the droid factory and retreated, Palpatine would execute him. It didn’t matter what he’d done for the Empire, the enemies he’d killed and the threats he’d neutralized. Palpatine would still execute him. “Do you have the plans and contingencies for after my death?” 

“I have them,” Tang answered stiffly, “I’m impressed. If we follow this, we’ll have Palpatine deposed of within the year.” 

“Doora will need an escape from the Imperial center,” he glanced to the side, watching Qui-Gon Jinn appear, “she cannot suffer for me.” 

“I will make sure she’s safe,” Tang promised, “and Luke.” 

“And Leia,” Vader sagged in his seat. “The Outer Rim will belong to the rebellion within a few short weeks; the rebellion will be ready to take advantage of the chaos my death will leave. I’ve planted the bugs and viruses within the software that will make the ships useless as long as you need them, Tang.” 

“Excellent,” she didn’t sound happy. “I’ll send Gohan to Nar Shadda to begin spreading information and hopefully raise dissent. Remember, when you fight in the droid factory, you can’t let Yoda kill you. Your death has to be the result of Palpatine’s actions.” 

“I have not survived this long to die at the hands of Yoda,” Vader scoffed. He closed his eyes as he felt Jinn’s ghostly hand rest on his shoulder. “When should I attack the droid factory?” 

“In one week,” Tang answered. He glanced up at Jinn’s encouraging smile. 

“It will all be over in two weeks,” he pursed his lips, flicking off the holo-unit. “For me, for you.” 

“The battle will only just begin.” Tang’s sigh echoed through the comm. “One week from today, Lord Vader.” 

“Acknowledged,” he switched off the comm unit before he could say something sentimental. That would be the last time he ever spoke to Tang. 

#R#$#$

The symbol of the Architect was familiar to Hera as she accepted the call, and blinked the sleep out of her eyes. Beside her, Kanan groaned but didn’t wake. 

“General Syndulla?” 

“Good morning,” she said somewhat grumpily, “what’s happened?” 

“Nothing yet, but Ezra and Kanan are needed elsewhere.” 

“What do you need them for?” Hera hadn’t questioned the Architect before, but if they wanted her husband and son, there had to be a damn good reason. 

“I can’t discuss this over open-comms, General. Jarrus and Bridger need to be on Home One within the next few days for their assignment.”

“Acknowledged,” Hera agreed, as she turned to her husband. His long, bare back was only somewhat covered by the blanket of their bed. He turned over as the symbol of the Architect faded. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You’ve got an assignment,” she told him, and he buried his face back into the blankets. “Ezra too.” 

“Nooooo, I just got back.” 

“I know,” she patted his back, “but this is important. You know the Architect only calls if it’s important.” 

“What about making love to my wife? Is this mission as important as that? I doubt it.” 

“Kanan,” he rolled back over, his sightless eyes somehow making her feel naked. “You both need to be on Home One in two days.” 

“Alright,” he sat up and began to get dressed. “I know when I’m not wanted. I’m going; I’m going.” 

Hera sighed and began to get dressed herself. It was early, but if she was awake, she could get a head start on planning the next battle with the Hutts. 

WE$#$#$#

“Yo,” Gohan blew a bright pink bubble at the holo of Captain Tang, “it’s been a while, where do you want me?” 

“Imperial center. I need you to recruit people who won’t be afraid to start a riot.” 

“How many?” She sat up; the human seemed oddly tense. 

“As many as you can manage. I also need a safe-house that can hold 50 people.” 

“A safe-house I can get you,” Gohan said easily. “Do you need people smuggled on world?”

“No. Get the safehouse and send me the address. Understood?” 

“Acknowledged,” Gohan winked at the holo and disconnected the call.

#$#$#$#$

Tang stared down at the table, her papers and datapads neatly arranged. 

“Sweets, Rain?” 

“Yes, sir.” They snapped off perfect salutes.

“Get these two ships assembled. I want 48 of your brothers packed and ready to go in two days. 30 sets of trooper armor, 15 sets of civilian clothes, and five as palace guards. Get everything on this list ready for our deployment. Understand?”

“Yes, sir! Anything else?” 

“Tell Cookie to pack a lot of snacks.” 

"Does this mean we're going too?" 

"Of course you are," Tang scoffed, "I'm not leaving my favorites behind. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update.

**Author's Note:**

> Here you go.


End file.
